


Practice Makes Perfect

by Kelleesi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Ned Dayne as Convenient Plot Device, POV Arya Stark, Roommates, Roommates to lovers, Slow Burn, minor Gendry/OC Arya/Ned Dayne while they figure their shit out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 60,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelleesi/pseuds/Kelleesi
Summary: Leading up to what shall henceforth be referred to as ‘The Incident’, things in Arya’s life had honestly been going quite well, thank you very much.ORArya, Gendry and Hot Pie end up living together - what could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Hot Pie (ASoIaF)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 856
Kudos: 620
Collections: Still Rowing: A Gendrya Centric Fanfic Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am typically a silent fandom participant but I just love these two so much.
> 
> If you hate it, maybe don't mention it. I'm fragile.

It all started with a numerical oversight, really. 

A lack of care taken when calculating the number of days she would be out of town for Winter holidays. That’s all it took. 

She could picture her sister Sansa perfectly, raising her nose just slightly while sipping a cup of tea and stating, “Really, Arya, you _must_ learn to be more organized. This lack of structure will undoubtedly end in disaster.” (Yes, this was years ago and yes, she was talking about the state of Arya’s closet at the time, but regardless. Sansa would have an absolute field day if she knew the degree to which her sister’s lack of organization was currently wreaking havoc on her life). 

Arya had chosen to go home to Winterfell for break - something she considered fairly routine and expected to have _no_ impact on her mental state and emotional well-being. To be fair, the trip itself was really not the problem. The problems started when she got home.

She had let her roommates know that she would be back late in the evening on the 5th of January. She then proceeded to return home late in the evening on the 4th of January instead, due to the aforementioned numerical oversight (also referred to as ‘Arya Stark cannot count for shit’). 

What a difference a day makes.

**

Leading up to what shall henceforth be referred to as ‘The Incident’, things in Arya’s life had honestly been going quite well, thank you very much. She had just finished up her first term at King’s Landing University, where she was living away from her parents and siblings and learning all sorts of extremely independent and adult lessons (including, but not limited to: how often she would actually have to go out and purchase groceries, that dishwasher soap and dishwashing soap are _not_ the same, and that she will apparently never have a set of Tupperware where the bottom and lid actually match).

Sansa had moved down south to attend KLU two years prior, during which time she and Arya were able to experience all the wonders that _not_ living together can do for a relationship. While she was glad to have her sister near - it was a reminder of home, in a way, when she missed it (not that she would ever tell Sansa that), she knew that living with her again was in no way, shape, or form something that she was interested in doing.

She had known Hot Pie what felt like all her life; so, when he mentioned that he would be attending KLU as well and was in need of a roommate, she jumped in full speed ahead and really didn’t ask too many questions.

In all honesty, that was likely where her problems truly began.

In explaining to Arya that he was in need of a roommate, Hot Pie failed to mention that he had already _found_ one roommate. The distinction between looking for _a_ roommate, singular, and a second roommate to go with the first who was already very much moved in, was apparently not one that he felt needed to be particularly focused on.

Regardless; the place had three bedrooms, her own bathroom, and her good friend Hot Pie - she really wasn’t too particular about the rest. 

If she’d known what a mess she’d find herself in, maybe she would have asked a few more questions.

**

She met Gendry on the first of September and, really, everything was perfectly _fine_. He seemed nice enough (okay, that’s a lie, he was a total grump) and unlikely to incite any drama (mainly because to do so would require him to interact with, well, anyone). 

She wasn’t entirely certain how he had ended up living with Hot Pie. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever met two young men with such different vibes about them - Hot Pie being upbeat, chatty (sometimes annoyingly so), and accommodating, with Gendry being… well, none of those things. 

He seemed to frown a lot while saying very little. Arya thought this must make for a fairly lonely existence.

Despite his initial surliness, or perhaps because of it, she was undeterred in her ambition to improve his attitude. First, the goal was to make him smile. Once she had mastered that, she was certain she would get him to laugh. Soon, she had no doubt, he would discover for himself that she was delightful and she would have something infinitely better than a new roommate - a new friend. 

**

The first time she made him smile, she nearly missed it - he really did his best to hide it. That almost made it better, somehow.

He’d been studying at the kitchen island, which was a rare occurrence. He seemed to prefer holing up in his room which, if she was honest with herself, she really couldn’t blame him for in the least considering how determined she was to pester him. As far as she was concerned, him choosing to set his things down in a common area made him absolutely fair game for a friendly interrogation.

She started off easy, finding out that he was studying mechanical engineering and clearly taking it far too seriously for his own good. She discovered that he was born and raised in King’s Landing, yet didn’t seem to hold it in particularly high regard based on his unenthused grunts. She learned his favourite colour was grey, he would choose a dog over a cat, and he considered turnips to be the most offensive of all root vegetables. 

He seemed to prefer to respond in one-word answers. One syllable, if at all possible.

The most important thing she learned, though, was that she could get away with approximately eleven disruptive (and only slightly useless) questions in a row before he slammed his laptop shut and declared her a right pain in his ass.

On any other day, she may have been affronted by this statement - however, she couldn’t bring herself to care just then. Not when she saw the muscles in his jaw working to keep his scowl in place, even as his blue eyes seemed to dance with amusement as they took her in. She _knew_ he was smiling. Even if he was doing his best to fight it on the outside - she could tell. 

She saw the moment he gave up trying to hold it in and the corners of his mouth quirked up just slightly. 

She didn’t think smiling was something he did too often. But he was, right then. The thought made her chest feel oddly light. 

**

As happy as Arya was to have made Gendry smile, it paled in comparison to making him laugh. The first time she accomplished this great feat, it came, to nobody’s surprise, at her own expense. She was desperately trying to reach the microwave popcorn which, for some ungodly reason or another, had been placed on the topmost shelf of the cupboard.

(Okay, the reason was - it was not hers at all, it was Hot Pie’s, and that was where he put it after he went out and bought it himself. Totally fair, in theory, but extremely inconvenient in her time of need.)

Short as she may be, she was determined to obtain her prize without resorting to climbing on the countertops like a child. Could she have grabbed a chair and stood on it - yes. Did that seem as undignified as climbing on the countertops - somehow, also yes. 

This was how Gendry came to find her resolutely jumping as high as she could, arms swinging wildly towards the top shelf in the hopes of successfully batting a bag of popcorn down from the shelf and into her grasp. 

She heard a loud snort from behind her, and quickly whipped around to see him leaning against the doorframe. Upon seeing the indignant look on her face, he tried to pass his laughter off as a coughing fit - as if she would buy that. 

She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Something funny?” She demanded.

Her attempt at bravado in spite of the ludicrous situation he had found her in made his shoulders begin to shake with the effort of repressing his laughter.

“You just…” he choked out. “You look like a possessed kangaroo.”

She glared at him and for a moment considered arguing - until he did an absurd little hop of his own, waving his arms in a manner that she was certain was less dignified than hers. She did not doubt that this was an extremely poor impression of her own actions.

He looked ridiculous, and he was no longer able to keep his chuckling contained. She couldn’t help but feel that his laughter was a little bit contagious, and she couldn't stop herself from joining in. Soon enough, they were both struggling to catch their breath as they downright cackled - neither could logically explain what it was that was so funny, but they couldn’t seem to stop either. 

Once her chest started to actually hurt, Arya focused on taking deep (although somewhat ragged) breaths and managed to pull herself together. There were tears in the corners of her eyes and she felt like she’d been running - at least around a full city block, if not further. As she calmed down, Gendry seemed to too. He took a steadying breath. 

“What were you trying to, you know…” He flailed his arms again. 

Gods, there was no way she had looked as idiotic as him when she was on her mission. His graceless arm thrashing almost made her dissolve into giggles once again - she forced herself to keep breathing and focus on the task at hand. She still didn’t have her popcorn, after all. 

“The popcorn.” She figured that since she had provided him such amusement he might as well help her. It was really the least he could do.

For a moment, he didn’t move, and she thought for one terrible second that he wouldn’t just grab it and would instead make her _ask_ him to get it for her and then she’d be right back to square one. Thankfully, he seemed to take pity on her and her plight and reached up to grab the bag. She couldn’t help but be slightly disgruntled at how easy it was for him.

He handed it to her with a smile that was a little bit crooked on one side.

“Does m’lady require anything else?” He questioned mockingly. 

She rolled her eyes and shoved at his chest. 

“Men,” She grumbled. “You grab me _one thing_ and now you’re my knight in shining armour.”

She popped the bag into the microwave and set the timer. He didn’t respond, and she looked over at him to find him running his hand through his hair and looking… well, extremely befuddled. 

She blinked at him and waited for him to break out of whatever trance he had suddenly found himself in. He didn’t notice her gaze, unfortunately, as he was earnestly staring into the kitchen sink as if it held all the secrets of the universe.

“You doing anything right now?” She asked abruptly, determined to break the silence that had suddenly descended upon them that he seemed blissfully unaware of. The question worked, as he snapped his eyes back to hers and shook his head slightly. 

“Now? Uh, no. I mean - yeah, no.” She desperately wanted to roll her eyes again, this time at how many words it took him to say ‘no’ (it really should only take _one_ ), but figured she should resist. She had _just_ done it, after all, and it appeared to reduce him to a confused and wide-eyed shell of a human, so. Best not. 

The microwave beeped.

“Good, then, we’re watching a movie. Come on.” She grabbed the popcorn and skipped towards the living room.

He followed, and she grinned to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day we'll make it to 'The Incident'. That day is not today.
> 
> A note on geography - this clearly takes place in a made up land as we somehow have both King's Landing and America... let's just go with it, shall we?

Things carried on in relatively the same vein for the next several months. Sometimes, when she was feeling dramatic, she lamented the lack of excitement in her life as the days passed without any news-worthy occurrences. Most of the time, however, she was slightly more rational and was just glad that everything was on an even keel. 

Her schoolwork was heavy, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She made some new friends in her classes and found time to work out at the campus gym. She also happened to be eating better than she ever had in her life. Not only was Hot Pie an amazing cook, he also lacked any and all awareness of appropriate portion sizes. There were _always_ leftovers, and he wouldn’t miss them; she suspected he was already fantasizing about his next meal the second his current one was done being prepared.

On a particularly gloomy Sunday in November, she was startled out of ‘reading’ (maybe her eyes were _slightly_ closed and she was resting her head just a little bit face-down on her textbook, but she was still technically studying, okay) by Hot Pie bursting through the door. His cheeks were red, he was out of breath, and he was carrying more bags of groceries than she would have thought possible. He hastily dropped them all on the counter before turning to her.

“Tonight,” he announced proudly, “We feast!”

She was still a bit hazy from her _non_ -nap and blinked blearily at him a couple of times.

“How is that different from any other night?” Her voice was a bit raspy - maybe she _had_ been sleeping, after all, just a little bit. 

He pouted at her and gestured vaguely with his hands. 

“It’s American Thanksgiving.”

“None of us are American, Hot Pie.”

He was unfazed by this obstacle and busied himself with unpacking the bags. She wondered, briefly, if she should offer to help him; the image of him clucking at her like some sort of mother hen and shooing her out of his domain flashed through her mind and she figured she was probably better off just supervising on this one. 

Hot Pie continued to busy himself with his supplies, listing off what sounded to her to be an extensively long menu. She thought of mentioning, once again, that this was not a real holiday for any of them to be celebrating - but looking at the joy on his face as he prattled on about gravy and sauce and who knows what else, she couldn’t bring herself to give him a hard time.

Gendry stumbled into the kitchen, freshly showered and smelling like some kind of tree. He stopped short at the sight of Hot Pie bustling around with enough food for a small army, peeling carrots in the middle of the morning. 

He blinked a few times.

“What’s, uh, what’s going on here, then?”

“It’s American Thanksgiving! We’re feasting!” 

“None of us are American, Hot Pie.” Hearing Gendry mimic Arya’s exact sentiments mere moments after her statement had Hot Pie’s eyes as wide as saucers, and he glanced between them as if they were behind some grand conspiracy.

Arya couldn’t help the mirth that was bubbling up inside her and she let out several unlady-like snorts of laughter. Gendry continued to look confused - although, to be fair, he looked confused so often that Arya had begun to wonder if that was just his face. 

Hot Pie began shaking both his head and his vegetable peeler.

“I cannot handle the two of you right now. Arya, do something with him. Both of you, out!”

He began to shoo at them, just as she had imagined him doing earlier, and the reality was infinitely better than the picture in her head. She was positively cackling at this point, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Come on,” She snickered to Gendry. “I’ll teach you to play drinking Monopoly.”

“Arya, it’s… pretty early.” She ignored him and continued heading towards the living room. She assumed he would follow her, despite his protests, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit smug when she realized she was right.

She sighed dramatically and flopped down onto the couch. 

“Fine, fine. We can start drinking Monopoly at noon. Until then…” She glanced around looking for inspiration. 

“We could, you know. Study. Like proper students.”

She gasped and stared at him in horror. 

“What is the matter with you? It’s a _holiday_!”

“Arya, none of us are…” he sighed. “You know what. Fuck it. What are you drinking?”

She beamed at him, ecstatic that he was going to go along with her plan.

“White wine.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Okay, fine, with Ginger Ale. Lots of Ginger Ale. Honestly, most of it can be Ginger Ale. At least enough so that the wine no longer tastes like wine.”

He chuckled and nodded, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like _‘adorable’_ as he ventured into Hot Pie’s territory to fetch them both a drink.

They wasted the morning and afternoon away as the delicious smells from the kitchen got stronger and stronger. At around 3 PM, Arya came to the realization that she was definitely still in her ratty oversize pajama shirt and also a little bit drunk. 

She was pretty sure she had won at Monopoly. She wins at most games, so. It was a logical conclusion to draw. At the moment, though, she was standing over Gendry and raining Monopoly money down on him as he lay on the living room floor. 

Unexpectedly quick, he reached out and grabbed her wrist and she shrieked - suddenly she was falling down onto the floor beside him in a fit of giggles. 

“Gotcha,” he said softly. She didn’t know how his face ended up so close to hers. He was so near she was pretty sure she could count his eyelashes if she wanted to. She decided she did want to, and got up to seven before he interrupted her.

“Arya.” 

Then he stopped. Why did he stop? He had just gotten started. He made her lose count of the eyelashes for nothing - now she had to start all over again. She was distracted, though, by the look on his face. He was smiling at her, gently, and he just looked so _soft_ and she wondered how she ever thought he was sullen or closed-off. He opened his mouth to speak again -

“Alright you chuckleheads!” Hot Pie barged into the living room and stopped when he took in the scene before him. His eyes darted suspiciously between the two of them, and Arya suddenly felt self-conscious of how close they were (she could count his eyelashes after all) combined with her lack of proper pants. She made to quickly scramble away, and looked innocently up at Hot Pie. Her face felt awfully hot - an after-effect of the wine, surely. Hot Pie and Gendry seemed to be having some silent conversation that she was not privy to. Well, that suited her just fine. She could have her own silent conversation, with herself, and they would be left out of it and they could see how they liked it.

“The feast is almost prepared,” Hot Pie finally declared. “Get up, get dressed, and get hungry!”

She brushed her hair out of her face, stood up and extended her hand to Gendry, who took it with his soft smile and _Gods_ she really shouldn’t drink wine if it was going to make her feel this flushed. At least it wasn’t just her this was happening to; she noticed as Gendry retreated to his room to change that the back of his neck also looked suspiciously red.

They celebrated the rest of their ‘holiday’ in peace - to nobody’s surprise, Hot Pie’s feast was exquisite. By the time she set down her fork after a generous helping of pumpkin pie, she was feeling full, warm, and cared for.

It was all too easy. Everything in her life was stable and steady. She should have known it would have to unravel sooner or later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter my favourite plot device of all time, Ned Dayne. I regret nothing.

She supposed, in hindsight, there were a few cracks in the foundation of her simple, easy life, even before ‘The Incident’. Signs that were there, that she had missed (or, perhaps, purposefully ignored; either one works, really). 

The most glaringly obvious one came six days after Hot Pie’s impromptu and lovely holiday. Arya was once again perched at the kitchen counter with her books spread out in front of her, except this time, she was not alone.

Her and Ned had been partnered up for a project in their Intro to Sociology course, and said project was due in just over two days.

Arya liked Ned. He was upbeat, his father knew her father, and he was very enthusiastic about getting together to work on things. He was maybe a bit overly eager for her tastes, but she’d prefer a partner who wanted to work too hard than one who didn’t want to work at all. 

She was hopeful that they would pull off a good grade - she had a few doubts about some of their points, but Ned seemed extremely confident in everything she suggested. She didn’t have enough fingers to count on both hands all of the ‘ _ That’s a wonderful idea, Arya. Really. Fabulous _ ’ and ‘ **_Of course_ ** _ that’s what we should do. You really are brilliant’ _ that he was constantly throwing out. She was fairly certain that she actually wasn’t  _ that _ brilliant, and their work could likely improve, but they tended to get into a bit of an exhausting and circular discussion if she tried to bring that up. Eventually she just gave up altogether and conceded that he must be right and she, nothing short of a genius. 

He was leaning over her to point out a particular section of her notes that he found to be singularly spectacular when Gendry came home.

He tugged his jacket off and tossed it on a hook, turned around - and froze in his tracks.

“Hey,” Arya said brightly. “Didn’t think you’d be home so soon.” He still hadn’t moved and he didn’t respond either, and as the seconds ticked by she was starting to feel like things were getting a little bit  _ awkward _ \- couldn’t he just say hello like a normal functioning human?

His gaze flickered between her and Ned, and him assessing the situation in turn made  _ her _ assess the situation, and she suddenly realized that Ned was actually standing quite close, and logically there was absolutely no reason for him to need to be pretty much enveloping her in his arms to point out these notes - 

Ned moved away from her, cleared his throat, and made a valiant attempt at an introduction.

“Hey, man. I’m Ned,” he offered his hand for Gendry to shake.

Unfortunately, Gendry was too busy staring at Arya to acknowledge him, looking at her like he expected her face to reveal some answer to a hidden mystery that she was not aware of. 

She really wished he would just take Ned’s hand so she could salvage some semblance of normal social interaction. She tried to communicate this to him telepathically; he was really studying her - she didn’t think telepathy really worked,  _ obviously _ , but if it was going to, she figured intense eye contact would help -

He tore his gaze from hers long enough to glance at Ned’s outstretched hand, clench his jaw, and spit out, “Gendry.”

He turned on his heel and marched off to his room, and she was left feeling disappointed but not surprised that her attempts at telepathy had failed so spectacularly.

Ned turned back to her looking both perplexed and put out - she felt a bit sorry for him, honestly. She wanted to apologize on Gendry’s behalf, but she didn’t really know how to explain what had just happened.

She gave it her best shot.

“Sorry about him. He’s… yeah.” She gestured vaguely. Okay, that could have been better.

“Yeah. No kidding.”

They finished the remainder of their project in the library.

**

“What’s wrong with Gendry?”

She blinked up at Hot Pie. 

“How the hell should I know?” It came out a bit snappier than she had intended. It’s not like she had spent much time with him lately - or  _ any _ time, really, since… well, since the Ned situation, she supposed. He seemed to always be conveniently out when she was home, or, even worse, hiding in his room  _ pretending _ he was out when he so obviously wasn’t.

“Aren’t you two like… peas and carrots?”

“Gods, Hot Pie, not everything has to be about food, you know.” 

He looked at her reproachfully. “It’s a famous saying. Everyone knows it. Anyway, I’m worried about him.”

“I haven’t seen him.” She went back to her textbook, forcibly ignoring the way that saying it out loud made her realize how  _ sad _ that made her. 

“Well, you’re seeing him tonight.” She looked up at Hot Pie in surprise. “It’s your last night at home before break - we need to have a nice family meal! Whatever’s eating at him, I’m sure this will fix him right up.”

She felt a rush of affection for Hot Pie. 

His words brought a bit of a reality check to her as well; she had been throwing just the smallest  _ tiniest _ pity party that Gendry didn’t seem to want anything to do with her. She chastised herself for being so self-absorbed - Gendry wasn’t spending with Hot Pie either, clearly. There could be any number of things bothering him, and if he didn’t feel comfortable sharing what those were with his roommates ( _ yet _ , she promised herself), that was perfectly acceptable.

It wasn’t about  _ her _ . 

Hot Pie made them all a delicious and comforting stew, but in all honesty Arya hardly paid the food itself any mind. She was focused on Gendry - she had missed seeing him, truly, but mostly she was looking for clues as to what could be wrong. If she knew, then she could probably help. She considered herself to be very adept at helping others with their problems. 

She wasn’t able to suss out any clues. She didn’t know what she expected to find out just from staring at him.  That's the kind of thing _he_ would do. _Stupid_. 

He seemed much the same as he’d always been, anyway - maybe whatever had been weighing him down was already behind him (or maybe Hot Pie was right and all he needed was some stew, after all). 

She bid him goodnight, and he wished her a happy holiday. He smiled his soft smile at her, and if his eyes seemed a little bit sad, she was sure she was exaggerating it in her mind’s eye.

Everything was fine. She really needn’t have worried.

Then came ‘The Incident’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there is an incident.  
> I am having a grand old time with all this build-up but I apologize in advance if it leads to a let-down.  
> Thank you to everyone who has been reading, I am having a lot of fun :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The Incident' Occurs

_She stumbled through the door with her suitcase, pulling out her phone to get the flashlight going so she could leave the hall lights off. The clock on her screen showed 2:28 AM. She would have to take extra care not to disturb Gendry - Hot Pie would likely sleep through anything and, even if she did wake him, he was sure to be much less irritable._

_She crept down the hall to her bedroom, kicked her shoes off and fell face first down onto her bed. She was absolutely exhausted and nothing was going to stop her from passing out into a dreamless -_

THUD.

_She shot up on the bed and looked around wildly, heart thudding in her ears, trying to see in the pitch dark of her room. Was someone in the house? She had to investigate, had to make sure nobody -_

THUD.

_She faltered as she heard the noise a second time - it sounded like it was coming from the other side of the wall she shared with Gendry. She was debating whether to go knock on his door or not (maybe he could use her assistance; but also, who knows what weird shit he could be up to in there) when she heard a new sound that stopped her in her tracks._

_There was the unmistakable sound of a breathless laugh - a_ ** _female_** _laugh. The thuds against her wall resumed, and with them the girl’s noises increased in frequency, changing in pitch to what could only be described as moans - from then on, all Arya knew was that her stomach appeared to have abruptly dropped out of her body and her heart would not stop pounding and Gendry had a_ ** _girl_** _in his room and if she had to listen to this for one more second she would go absolutely mad -_

_She leaped out of bed and blindly groped through her purse in the dark, desperately searching for what she was looking for until finally - there! Her phone and earbuds. She pressed ‘play’ without looking, not caring what came through the little speakers as long as it was drowning out the activities on the other side of the wall. She lay back down as the music blared in her ears, screwing her eyes shut and willing her heartbeat to slow._

_She cursed her body for what she had decided was a completely irrational reaction to her current situation. Who cared if Gendry had a girl over? It’s not like she had never heard the sounds of people being ‘together’ before - her foster brother Theon, for instance, was a complete and utter heathen, and never failed to find himself a lady on any family trip they went on for as long as she could remember. She herself may be limited in personal experience, but it’s not like she didn’t know what went on - she had seen movies, read books… she didn’t live under a rock, okay._

_So, what the hell was her problem?_

_Unwillingly, her mind began to conjure up mental images that she had no interest in seeing. She couldn’t stop the flashes of some thin, attractive girl who probably did yoga and had perfect hair no matter the situation and was gasping underneath Gendry as he did lord knows what -_

_She did not want to be thinking about this right now. There were plenty of other things that would be better served to occupy the space in her mind, like how excited she was for her next round of classes, how much she had missed Hot Pie’s cooking, how lovely -_

_How did he even know this girl?_

_Her mind continued to betray her, and suddenly she was picturing a random yet effortlessly pretty fellow engineering student who of course was also smart, (probably wore glasses just to really hammer the point home) and she was cosying up beside him in the library, touching his arm and asking if he wanted to study with her and next thing you know -_

_Had she felt this nauseous an hour ago?_

_She needed to get a grip. She was just tired - delusional, even, maybe, from jet lag and the holidays and that was a perfectly reasonable explanation, right?_

_I mean, yes, she had been operating under the assumption that Gendry was a complete hermit who spoke to approximately five total human beings and only seemed to genuinely enjoy the company of two (herself and Hot Pie)... but, clearly, she was somewhat off in that assessment. And that was fine. Totally fine._

_Gods, she needed sleep. Once she was rested and had a clear head, she was certain she would look back on this unfortunate incident and laugh at how absurd she was being, letting herself be even remotely affected by it in any way._

_Come morning, she would likely forget all about it._

_**_

She did not.

She woke abruptly, with an acute sense that something was wrong - it took her brain all of one second to catch up with her body and helpfully remind her that that something was Gendry. Gendry had spent last night with a girl and, in an assuredly unrelated spontaneous coincidence, her stomach felt like it was full of writhing snakes.

She slipped on a pair of warm fuzzy socks and padded to the kitchen in her oversized pajama shirt. She busied herself by making a cup of coffee (which she was certain was all it would take to solve every single one of her problems). Once it was ready and she was about to take her first glorious sip and be well on her way to recovery, she looked up - and almost dropped the cup completely.

She was staring right at Gendry’s _lady of the night_ and she was fairly certain they wore identical wide-eyed expressions; neither expecting to see the other. She _was_ cute - Arya didn’t know why she cared, really, she basically didn’t, but she couldn’t stop herself from noticing anyway. Tall, and blonde, and pretty even though she literally just rolled out of bed ( _Gendry’s bed_ \- Arya wished her brain would just shut up at this point). 

The girl cleared her throat and forced out, “Hey… um… I’m just gonna go ahead and, uh… I’m gonna go.” She gestured feebly to the door but didn’t make any move towards it.

Arya didn’t respond, merely lifted one eyebrow and gave her a mock two-finger salute. The blonde seemed to get the memo that she wasn’t going to be getting any reassurance from this exchange, and hastily made her way out the door with flushed cheeks. Once she heard the heard the latch click shut, Arya let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding. Gods, she really needed to get a handle on herself. Her hands shook slightly and her heart appeared to be racing again - this couldn’t be good for her health. 

She sat in silence for several minutes, sipping her steaming cup of coffee and trying to understand why she was all of a sudden so out of sorts. She wasn’t exactly successful as she attempted this while simultaneously trying _not_ to think too hard about it at all. 

She had a minor, niggling worry that really, _truly_ thinking on it may lead her to an undesirable conclusion and, further, to an uncomfortable living situation with her roommate.

The problematic roommate in question chose that moment to emerge from his room, yawning and running a hand through his hair. Of course, of _course_ he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants - why had he always worn shirts around before, if he looked like that? Her traitorous eyes trailed across his chest, past some very well-defined abs before getting to where a thin trail of hair disappeared into the waistband of his sweats and her brain proceeded to short-circuit -

 _Snap out of it!_ She gave her head an imperceptible shake and dragged her eyes up to his face. 

The look she found there truly would have been comical if she had time to allow herself to be entertained. As it was, she was busy schooling her own features into a neutral expression (this was no easy feat considering the shitstorm of confusing emotions that had all of a sudden emerged due to ‘The Incident’, but you can bet there was _no way_ she would ever let him see how rattled she was). 

He continued to stare at her, gaping like a fish out of water, while she raised an eyebrow and _Gods_ how many encounters like this was she going to have this morning? She had already reached her limit and it was only - she glanced at the clock above the stove - 8:16 AM. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he breathed out. If she had the physical ability, she would have raised her brow even higher to show her contempt at this statement. Unfortunately, as it was, she was already maxed out.

“I live here.”

He instantly flushed. “Right, no, of course. I didn’t mean… that… only…” he trailed off, still slightly gaping at her and looking like he had blinked more times in the past 30 seconds than she had in the past fifteen minutes.

“Only...?”

“Just, um,” he swallowed. “Thought you wouldn’t be be back ‘til tonight. Is all.” He was still looking at her, and, truly, he looked completely unnerved and maybe this made her the worst person to ever walk the earth but seeing how shook up he was made her feel… better, a bit. Because she had been out of sorts for hours now. It’s only fair that he suffer through some of this irrational mess, too.

With that less than charitable thought in mind, she didn’t respond. She wondered how long it would take for him to crack under the weight of her silence and -

“When, uh, when did you? Get back, I mean?” Not long at all, it would seem. It brought her little satisfaction.

“Who, me?” She sipped her coffee, “Last night.”

She watched his eyes dart back and forth between hers and his mouth was still gaping open and she really should just give him a break, it’s not like he’d done anything _wrong_ -

“Met your friend on her way out. Lovely girl.” _Okay, that was the opposite of what we just talked about, remember, about how he didn’t do anything wrong, so you should stop giving him a hard time and just act normal_ \- she wished her brain and her mouth would communicate better before comments like this had a chance to slip out.

Her words seemed to spring him into action as he rubbed the back of his neck and started towards her, urgently explaining. 

“Look, Arya, I really don’t do this kind of thing a lot, okay, it’s not like -”

“Seemed like you had a bit of practice.” He froze at her words, narrowing his eyes at her and tilting his head slightly like he didn’t know what to make of her comments. Well, that was fair, since she had no clue what to make of her comments either, and they had come out of her own mouth. 

She felt like she had issued an unspoken challenge, and suddenly all she wanted was for him to step up and take it on. _Prove it,_ she thought. _Show me that you know what you’re doing_ . She was fairly confident he could - her mind flitted, unwittingly, to the sounds she had heard last night. She pictured it being her in the room with him instead… or, better yet, right here in the kitchen. He could lift her up onto the counter and spread her legs to press himself between them, grip her hips and pull her close enough that he could feel her heart race against his bare chest (she couldn’t help but notice that once the idea of ‘Gendry with some random girl’ became ‘Gendry with _Arya_ ’, the whole situation suddenly got a lot less nauseating) - 

He cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well. Everyone needs to practice sometimes. Gotta, you know. Know what you’re doing.”

She blinked and tried to figure out what he was even talking about. Finally, she remembered what had started her on her completely inappropriate tangent, and that she had been the one bringing up practicing and experience. The tips of his ears were red and he had his arms crossed against his chest (it’s really unfair, honestly, that he would stand like that when she was trying to gain the upper hand in a game that she didn’t even know how to play) and resolutely looking away from her. 

He had a point though.

“Hmm. I think, for once, you might be right,” she said thoughtfully. He looked at her hopefully then, and began nodding, until, “I should probably be practicing, too.”

At this he froze again, and then he was shaking his head vehemently. 

“No, no, uh, I don’t think that’s what I said,” he stammered. “You don’t need - you know, I’m sure you’re doing - just fine -” he broke off to rub his hands over his face and groan in frustration before exclaiming, “Can we just go back, say, twenty-four hours, and forget literally all of this?” 

She would love to do just that, truly, she would, but honestly does he really not know that that’s not how life works?

“Why? Is it that important to you to salvage your reputation of being a reclusive virgin hermit?”

“Yes.”

He glared at her with something dangerously close to a pout. Seemingly of their own accord, her eyes dropped to his lips. Finding this no less distracting than his torso, she quickly decided it was safest to focus her gaze somewhere just above his left ear.

“It’s fine, Gendry, don’t worry about it.” She rolled her eyes and forced out a laugh. She winced to herself at how hollow it sounded and prayed he wouldn’t notice. “I was just giving you a hard time. Seems like you had a fun break. I’m happy for you.”

She pushed herself off of her stool and began to hastily retreat to her room. Her faux nonchalance was definitely not as convincing as she would have hoped and she feared what else would tumble out of her mouth without her consent if she sat there with him and his stupid sculpted arms and his stupid pouting lips for one more second. 

There was no way she could force out any more fake niceties and keep pretending she was _happy_ and _fine_ when she felt very far from both - but somehow letting slip any small scrap of the truth seemed even worse.

Good thing she got out of there when she did.

Before she closed her bedroom door, she called out, “Thanks for the advice, though!”

She could hear him utter a few choice expletives from the kitchen, and it put a smile on her face for a fraction of a second. Her teasing him, frustrating him, making him curse - that she could handle. That was normal. Everything was going to be just fine.

Except it wasn’t fine, not really, because she still felt like her heart had been going _much_ too fast since about 2:30 in the morning, and her thoughts were racing even faster. She seemed to have an amazing talent for coming up with new loathsome yet vividly detailed visions of what had gone on the night before, each more upsetting than the last.

She thought about _after_ \- when they were done - and wondered if he wrapped her in his arms as she laid her head on his chest and oh Gods _worst_ of all - if he looked at her all soft and gave her a little crooked smile. Things that she thought were only for _her_ \- but really, that made no sense. He had an entire life outside of her. Just because he looked at her with affection (friendly affection, really, nothing more) didn’t mean he wouldn’t, or shouldn’t, do that with anyone else. She berated herself for even letting that ridiculous thought enter into her mind. She had no right to expect that of him. 

She flopped down onto her bed and wondered when this awful feeling would wear off so that everything could go back to normal. At this rate, she wasn’t sure if she would ever eat again, and of all the ways she thought she could potentially leave this world, starvation due to emotional turmoil was certainly not something she would have guessed.

She needed to get a grip. Better yet - she needed a _plan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SCARED.  
> I would like to thank alovelikeher and 'Everybody Talks' for providing what will forever be my Gendry modern AU reality - he is an angel, but he's NOT an angel and that is okay!  
> Our poor Arya is a complicated mixture of sad and thirsty - it's a difficult combo to manage.  
> Thank you for reading <3


	5. Chapter 5

Several hours later, her plan was still in the developmental stages. Meaning, basically, all she had been able to come up with so far was ‘hide in your room until the end of term so you never have to run into Gendry again’. She felt that the current plan could definitely use some improvement. There were a couple of gaping holes in it, such as, of course, the fact that she had no food, and would fail all of her classes, and if she didn’t die of starvation she would likely die of _boredom_ -

She huffed in frustration and shot up off of her bed. This was _ridiculous._ She lived here. She was a strong, independent young adult. She would not allow ‘The Incident’ to reduce her to a shell of her former glory - it was all Gendry’s fault, anyway, and how was it fair that his life should continue on exactly the same as ever and _she_ was the one hiding away when she hadn’t even done anything?

It wasn’t fair - it was absurd. She determined that she had allowed herself a few hours of wallowing and that was _enough_. She just had to steel herself and accept the fact that she would still see him around, hopefully fully clothed from now on, and understand the reality that there was some tall blonde in his life who he voluntarily _chose_ to -

She nipped that train of thought in the bud before her brain came up with any more explicit visuals of what he had likely been doing to her. Or was it ‘with’ her? She didn’t even know. She didn’t know _anything_ \- that seemed like a whole new problem in and of itself. 

Her stomach grumbled, and she sighed in relief. Okay, baby steps. She _would_ eat again, after all! This was a great sign. Things were already getting back on track. She headed to the kitchen, figuring she could snoop around the fridge for any Hot Pie leftovers. And if she first peeked her head out of her bedroom door and carefully surveyed the hallway, listening for sounds of activity that would announce that Gendry was anywhere but in his own room, well. That was nobody’s business but her own.

Thankfully, the coast appeared to be clear, and she was able to make it to the kitchen and reheat a delicious-smelling pasta before the chef himself strutted through the front door.

He seemed to be in an exceedingly good mood, even for him.

“Arya!” Hot Pie exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you!”

“ _Why_ does everybody keep saying that to me? I _live_ here.” Her gruff tone seemed to deflate him a little bit, and he furrowed his brow at her.

“Well, you told us all you’d be back tonight. Very late, you said. See, you even wrote it here, really big.” He nodded to their shared wall calendar where she was horrified to see, staring back at her in her own writing and indeed quite large, ‘ _The bitch is back! (v v v late at night)’._ On January 5th. Which was today.

Oh.

Well, that at least explained why everyone was so shocked to see her in her own house.

It didn’t explain…

“Are you just getting in? Where have you been?” She asked him suspiciously.

His face lit up again, and he sighed dreamily.

“I met a woman. Maggie, at the bakery. All term, she was giving me a few extra sweets here and there… free of charge, you know… and I thought she was just being _nice_ , she could tell I liked sweets, but I guess…” he trailed off. 

She waited for him to elaborate. She suspected, from his look, that she was supposed to infer how the rest of the story went, but she did not.

“ _Anyway_ ,” he continued, looking at her with slight exasperation, “She invited me over for tea and biscuits yesterday. Bold girl.” He smiled fondly to himself. He really seemed awfully chipper. 

“Yesterday?” She blinked. But he just got home, and it was past noon, and…

“Gods, is _everyone_ getting some but me?!”

Her outburst seemed to snap him out of his enamoured reverie, and he chuckled a bit to himself.

“ _Please,_ Arya, Gendry is not getting any.”

“Tell that to the girl I saw leaving his room this morning.” She pursed her lips and cursed herself - why did she bring this up? It was Gendry’s business anyway; she shouldn’t be gossiping about his sex life like some bored housewife. She had the perfect distraction to _not_ think about it, they should be talking about Hot Pie -

“What?”

She looked up to find him looking extremely confused, like he was maybe trying to solve an extremely complex mathematical equation, and she feared she may have to repeat the statement and remind herself of the situation all over again. Luckily, her words finally seemed to process for him, and he continued.

“Are you sure?”

She couldn’t stop herself from scoffing at this point. No disrespect to Hot Pie, but the fact that he seemed so utterly convinced that Gendry could not get a girl was honestly a bit insulting. She felt that she should come to his defense - had Hot Pie not _seen_ his arms?

She rolled her eyes at him. “Trust me, I’m sure. He’s an attractive guy, Hot Pie, it probably happens all the time -”

“You think Gendry’s attractive?” He had shifted to rest his face on both of his hands and was looking at her innocently. Too innocently. It was suspicious. 

“I - what?” She frowned.

“You said, ‘ _He’s an attractive guy, Hot Pie’_.”

She pictured Gendry earlier today, bare-chested with his arms crossed, icy eyes narrowed at her with just a hint of a glimmer in them that she could only describe as _dangerous_ \- she felt a jolt of heat run through her and her chest flushed. She prayed Hot Pie wouldn’t notice. 

“I - _no -_ not me, specifically, I just mean, in general, objectively speaking, some people might probably think that,” she stammered out. Phew. Recovery could have been a bit smoother, for sure, but that could have gone worse. 

“Right.” He opened his mouth like he might continue, but seemed to think better of it and just shook his head a little bit to himself and sighed instead.

She cleared her throat and tried to get the conversation back on track.

“I’m happy for you, Hot Pie. Tell me about her.”

He shot her a blinding smile and happily obliged, prattling on about the sweetness of Maggie’s smile and her wealth of knowledge of baked goods. Arya was listening, truly, she was, but a small part of her was stuck wondering how she could say the exact same thing, _about_ the exact same thing, to both of her roommates, only several hours apart, and have one be 100% genuine and the other a bold-faced lie. She imagined if she’d stayed in the kitchen with Gendry that morning, and asked him to tell her about Blondie, and then had to listen to him list all her delightful qualities -

She’d rather eat glass. 

Maybe, she figured, it was because she had had to _hear_ Gendry’s encounter - Hot Pie’s romantic night was more conceptual; it was a vague thing that had happened, that she _knew_ had happened, but she hadn’t had to physically hear it herself, or see the girl the next morning, and if she _had_ -

_You wouldn’t have cared._

Gods, her brain could be such a traitor sometimes. 

**

_The next morning found her once again enjoying a hot cup of coffee in the kitchen in her pajama shirt. She leaned forward against the counter, stretching out her back and trying to release some of the tension she’d been feeling over the past 36 hours._

_She was startled when Gendry suddenly appeared behind her (how had she not heard him creeping up on her?) and she was even more surprised by how_ **_close_ ** _he got - she was pretty sure he was breaking the boundaries of acceptable personal space from one roommate to another… but, at the same time, he had his shirt off again and she could pretty much_ **_feel_ ** _the heat coming off of him and was she really supposed to pretend to be bothered by this when she was very much not?_

_His close proximity had her heartbeat accelerating at a slightly alarming rate, and she tried to focus on acting completely natural and unphased. She thought she was doing pretty well, all things considered, for a few seconds - and then she nearly jumped out of her skin when his hands were on her shoulders and he began methodically rubbing some of the tension out._

_She realized, somewhat bemusedly, that she should say something - she should stop him, probably, because as heavenly as his hands felt this was not_ **_normal_ ** _for them. She was pretty sure she could count on one hand the number of times they had actually touched, and none of them had been anything like_ **_this_ ** _. This was deliberate, and unquestionably intimate, and... she couldn’t stop the heat from pooling in her lower belly if she tried._

_She kept quiet and he carried on._

_She was pretty sure she had forgotten how to breathe (and speak, apparently) but as his thumbs dug in with a distinct amount of pressure she couldn’t help the sound that escaped her (it was embarrassingly close to a whimper, but honestly, he didn’t really seem to mind, so why the hell should she?) and his hands began to make their way lower and lower down her back, spreading a tingling warmth through her everywhere they touched._

_She felt herself arching her back like a cat, craving more attention from his hands. She wasn’t sure if she had any control over her body at this point, so really she took no responsibility for any of this. She realized, without too much of a care, that her latest actions had caused her shirt to hitch up dangerously high on her thighs. His hands hadn’t stopped their maddening exploration of her back, and once he reached her tailbone she had the delicious thought that he might not stop at all. How far would his experimental hands go? She arched her back further, silently encouraging him. He seemed to know what she wanted without needing to be told - was that normal?_

_His hands roved lower, until he was palming the globes of her ass through her shirt and giving the cheeks a playful squeeze. She inhaled sharply, and she felt torn - in a way, she didn’t want him to know how much he was affecting her. But somehow, she_ **_did_ ** _\- almost more than anything, this small wicked part of her wanted him to have no doubts about how much she wanted this, how strongly her body reacted to him, how wet she was for him already - what would he say, or_ **_do_ ** _, if he knew?_

 _“Gods, I missed you,” he rasped, and the low, desperate tone of his voice shot straight to her core. She didn’t respond - she_ **_couldn’t_ ** _respond (remember, she had lost all powers of speech and all semblance of control over herself) -_

_“Do you want me to show you how much?” His fingers skimmed just below the hem of her T-shirt, and her legs trembled, and honestly she felt a bit delirious. Her breath hitched, and her heart hammered, and she nodded desperately, eyes clamped shut._

_“Say it.”_

_Gods, he was bossy, and she wanted to be irritated with him but there was no way she could focus on anything other than how much she needed him to touch her and - did he not know that she had lost the ability to speak?_

_She let out a pleading whine, and he chuckled behind her and she knew he understood, and he would take pity on her, and he would end this sweet torture and slip his hand up -_

BEEP - BEEP - BEEP - BEEP - BEEP -

She grabbed her phone, silenced the alarm and nearly threw it against the wall in frustration. 

Well, fuck. 

She took a few steadying breaths and tried to calm her racing heart - and ignore the ache between her legs. Gods, he had been so _close_ , and she was wound up so tight, she could just -

No. No, no no.

She bit her lip and bunched her hands into her sheets, desperately trying to get a handle on herself and the situation she was in. She felt very strongly that a dream like this was _not_ her fault - it was brought on by her subconscious, she had no control over it, it’s not her fault that some treasonous part of her was clearly in a temporary phase of lusting after him - _but._ If she thought about it, thought about _him,_ while she reached down and brought herself release - that was different. That was _deliberate_. She couldn’t do that. How would she ever look him in the eye again?

_Maybe it’ll help, though._

Gods, as if she needed any more evidence that her brain was a traitor - and just like that, seemingly without her permission, her left hand was snaking down to her center and - what the hell was wrong with her? He was her _roommate_ , she had to live with him, see him pretty much every day, this was just _asking_ for trouble -

But then her traitorous fingers slipped down beneath her knickers, and she decided that she didn’t care at all, because _Gods_ she was wet, and she _needed_ this, okay, she needed -

She fell off the edge embarrassingly quickly, and threw her head back in a silent gasp (she now knew exactly how thin her bedroom walls were, okay, so silence was absolutely paramount). The thought flitted across her mind that she may not know what the hell she was doing if she was ever _with_ someone, but at least she knew what _she_ needed - that was something, right? As she lay in bed trying to catch her breath, she found the thought brought her little comfort.

Thoughts of Gendry flew through her mind, and how humiliating it would be if he had any inkling of the kind of thoughts she was having (or, even worse, the actions she was taking to relieve her frustrations at said thoughts) - she felt as though she was blushing from her chest to the tips of her ears just thinking about it. How was she _ever_ supposed to face him now? She felt that he would take one look at her and he would just _know._ And then what the hell was she supposed to do?

She couldn’t help but feel that, since 'The Incident', things had only gone from bad to worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOT PIE DESERVES LOVE  
> I have no idea what I am doing so please tell me if my tags and or rating are not what they should be for this gigantic thirst trap.  
> Thanks for reading <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry's back! Ned's back! Things are happening

The whole next week, she didn’t see Gendry once. She was mature enough to admit to herself that normally this would make her a little bit sad; however, in her current situation, it was nothing short of a blessing. 

She wasn’t ready to see him - she had absolutely no trust in what her body’s reaction would be and even though she knew it was ridiculous, she couldn’t help but worry that he would _know_ \- one look at her, and he would know what she’d been thinking about, what she’d _done_ (okay, what she’d been doing…repeatedly. Her dreams had not yet ceased). The thought made her want to fall through the floor. 

Her classes had officially started up again, and she was eternally grateful for the distraction they provided. Not only did they require her to be out of the house for extended periods of time, they were also full of people. Other people, who were not Gendry, for her to interact with. Focus on. People like - Ned, for instance. 

She had two more classes with him this term, and on the first day of each his gaze found her as if he possessed some kind of Arya-heat-seeking-missile powers of the mind. He beamed and dropped down into the seat beside her, with exclamations of ‘Arya! You look wonderful! Good break, I assume?’ And ‘Arya! We meet again! What are the chances of this - could it be fate?’ 

And he really, really was a bit much for her tastes, and maybe she shouldn’t have gone along with any of it at all (she’s pretty sure a better person probably wouldn’t have) but when Thursday rolled around and he looked deep into her eyes and said he wanted nothing more than to take her out for a proper date…

All she could think was that he wasn’t Gendry, and that was _perfect_. Really, that was exactly what she needed. There were other fish in the sea, and here was a prime example. He was available, and he didn’t live with her, and he was actually interested… this was honestly a big improvement. On paper, at least. 

She tried her best not to let any of her elaborate inner monologue show on her face while he awaited her response. She gave him a small smile (it was as big as she could manage, at the time, it’s not like she wasn’t _trying_ ) and told him that that sounded nice. 

He looked thrilled, and they made plans for dinner the very next night, and he kissed her cheek before they parted, and… shouldn’t she feel excited? At least a little?

Her stomach felt like lead. 

She took a deep breath - baby steps. She was sure she’d get there. Just one step at a time - she was taking action to fix her current problem, and that was admirable, really. Smart. Mature. 

She liked Ned well enough. 

She’d be fine. 

**

The next night found her applying the finishing touches to her makeup (she hardly ever wore any and was still debating with herself if the effect of her efforts was alluring or...decidedly not) and trying to convince herself that the feeling in her gut was excited nerves, rather than dread. 

She had donned one of her only skirts - tight and black and, most importantly, stretchy (she may be going on a _date_ but that was no reason to not be comfortable) and a loose chunky-knit sweater. She had pulled her hair back and, despite her reservations about her cosmetic prowess, she thought she looked...nice. 

She allowed herself a small smile. Maybe this would be fun, after all. 

She didn’t even make it out the front door before everything came crashing down. 

She had been distracted leaving her room - she cursed herself for her carelessness. She had neglected to do her (now fairly regular) perimeter check to ensure the coast was clear and Gendry-free. 

He startled her. He’d been sitting at the kitchen counter, looking very suspiciously like he’d been doing absolutely nothing - was he waiting for her? What the hell kind of ambush was this?

He shot up from where he’d been sitting, and started towards her. 

“Arya-“

He broke off just as abruptly as he’d started, and she saw him take in her slightly dolled up appearance, and he didn’t say anything, he just kept staring and Gods she _knew_ the eyeliner was too much, she must look absurd -

“You look...good.” He brought his hand to his hair, and she was startled out of her downward spiral. She didn’t know him to lie - and why would he? Maybe she was doing alright, after all. The thought steadied her a bit.

“Thanks.”

_So do you._

And he did. She didn’t know why she was surprised by this, but somehow _not_ seeing him for days had dulled him slightly in her mind without her even noticing. Despite him being present in an embarrassing amount of dreams and an even more embarrassing amount of waking fantasies, she was unprepared for the real thing. 

He was dressed simply, in a plain black tee and track pants, and his stupid dark hair was all messy, and she had no idea what the look in his eyes meant but why the hell did they have to be so fucking blue?

“Arya, listen.” He started towards her again, and she really hoped he would stop at a reasonable distance, otherwise how the hell did he expect her to do as he asked and listen to him? But also - she hadn’t been _near_ him, not really, in so long, and maybe he wouldn’t stop coming towards her and he’d grab her and take her into his arms instead -

She was too busy quibbling with herself to formulate a response, but her silence seemed to assure him that he was welcome to continue on. 

“Look - I feel like things have been… weird. Since, you know, you came home.” She raised an eyebrow. That was how he thought of it? Things were weird since she came home? 

How about things had been an absolute mess since she had to listen to him fuck some girl and then realize how attractive she actually found him but accept that she clearly couldn’t have him for a plethora of reasons and therefore had to resort to inappropriate imaginings starring him - but sure, let’s go with ‘things have been weird since you came home’.

She didn’t say anything, and he ran his hand through his hair again. No wonder it was so messy. He looked like he would rather be doing anything else in the world other than having this conversation with her, but since he was the one who brought about all these problems in the first place, she had no intentions of lending him a helping hand or letting him off the hook.

He tried to power through.

“I just - I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. And it won’t happen again.”

“Going to hers from now on, then?” She inspected her fingernails so she could avoid looking at him. She couldn’t look him in the eye, and talk about _her_ , and feel like she was getting her insides ripped out and just act like everything was fine -

“Gods, Arya, _no,_ that’s not what I’m trying to -” he broke off in frustration. She chanced a glance up at him to see if he was running his hands through his hair again. He was not - he did look like he might hit something though. She wished the thought didn’t cause an exhilarating jerk suspiciously low in her belly. 

He tried one more time. She had to admit that he was making a valiant effort, she could tell this was a struggle for him - but she really didn’t know how she could have helped, even if she had wanted to. She was at as much of a loss as he was.

“I’m not, you know, _with_ her, it was just one - look, it was - it was just stupid, alright? And I’m sorry.” 

He wasn’t with her? So it was… oh. Okay. _Casual_. Well that was just fine - it was still none of her business, no matter how much he wanted to explain his situation to her -

“I don’t… I don’t like the way things are now. Between us.” His quiet admission was at odds with all his flustered outbursts and frantic explanations. 

Her stomach twisted in an entirely different way as she felt guilt flood through her. She hadn’t realized her avoidance was even affecting him in any way (she hadn’t been sure he would even notice, to be honest) but to see him here, clearly distraught and spewing explanations and apologies - she felt awful. She had no claim over him - he was a single guy, he was free to stick it wherever he bloody well pleased, and here she was making it into a huge deal and making him feel he owed her any of this when he _didn’t._

She had to say something, she knew she did. She had been so quiet this whole time, and it wasn’t _fair_ to him, but how was she supposed to answer when she felt like there was a golf ball stuck in her throat and she might burst into tears and she didn’t even really know why?

“I don’t either,” she managed to get out, and honestly she was proud of herself, because it wasn’t much but at least it was _something_ , and it was honest, and that couldn’t hurt anything, right?

Her small concession seemed to do wonders for him and she watched some of the tension seem to physically fall off of him. 

“Can we… do you want to watch a movie, or something?” He still looked uncomfortable, and he was rubbing the back of his neck and looking at her all earnestly and honestly there was nothing (well - almost nothing) she would rather do than sit beside him on the couch and rip on some terrible horror movie -

Then she remembered, for the first time since she stumbled upon him sitting by the counter, why she even came through the kitchen to begin with, and it was because she was headed _out the door_ for a date with Ned bloody Dayne. One she was most definitely now running late for.

Why was this her life?

“I, um, I would, but I’m... I’m actually headed out. To see Ned.”

As soon as the words left her mouth she wanted to pull them back in - she didn’t _want_ to go see Ned, she wanted to stay _here -_ but no. 

Going out with Ned was still a good plan. She had to rally - just because it turned out Gendry wasn’t actually head over heels in love with Blondie, and just because he didn’t like Arya avoiding him, in no way meant that her current thoughts about him were appropriate and not something that needed to stop. It definitely did not mean that she no longer needed her distraction plan. She probably needed it now more than ever, if Gendry was serious about trying to get things back to how they ‘used to be’. That would mean spending time together, and she was _not_ confident that she wouldn’t do something completely idiotic if left alone with him for too long. Surely this date with Ned would help with that. 

“To see - right. Of course you are. That’s - yeah.” He cleared his throat, and he wasn’t looking at her anymore, and was she imagining it or had he gone back to looking like he might hit something?

She hovered by the door, knowing she should put her shoes and coat on and just _go_ , but something was holding her back. What the hell was she waiting for?

_Ask me to stay._

Oh. Must be that. Gods, her brain had an annoying habit of being honest at a time when she was just not down for it. 

“Arya.”

Her heart stopped. She looked up at him - this was it, she couldn’t believe it, was this really happening? He was going to tell her to stay here, with him, and then -

“Have a nice time.”

Gods, had being wished well ever felt so awful? The disappointment swelled around her, and she busied herself with her shoes so he wouldn’t be able to see her face and her absolutely ridiculous response to his polite and normal comment.

She could be so _dense_ sometimes. 

She muttered out a quick thanks, and hurried out the door. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this just wasn’t right - she didn’t want to go, so she _shouldn’t_. Every step further away from Gendry made her feel worse. Why was she even bothering with this?

Thinking about Ned was the deciding factor for her. Not thinking about him as a potential love interest, but just as a person - Ned was a nice guy. At the very least, he did not deserve to be stood up because he happened to ask out a girl who was going through an emotional crisis. She had told him she would go - so she would. He deserved that. And if she couldn’t go through with her plan, and she really didn’t think she could feel something for him - he deserved to be told that, too.

**

Despite her shaky mental state and her undeniable reservations, Arya really thought she would last longer on her date with Ned Dayne.

She couldn’t deny the fact that she was a little bit disappointed in herself.

She had met him at the restaurant of his choosing, some posh place whose name she could neither remember nor pronounce, spewing apologies for her lateness while he greeted her with all the polite gentlemanliness in the world.

They were seated at a candle-lit table, and it somehow seemed extremely _quiet_ \- she felt that she should whisper at all times to avoid calling attention to herself. Ned ordered her a glass of white wine, which she attempted to politely sip on. She shuddered to think of the look on their server’s face should she ask to mix it with some Ginger Ale - this was _not_ that type of place. 

She ordered a seafood pasta, and honestly it smelled heavenly. She wished she didn’t feel so nauseous so she could have some sliver of a chance of enjoying it. The more Ned talked, the more he showered her with compliments (he seemed to think she had the most amazing eyes, the most beautiful smile, the most enchanting laugh - had she even laughed on this date? She couldn’t recall) - the stronger the feeling of dread in her stomach grew.

She felt like she was hardly even listening to him anymore - all she could think about was Gendry, sitting at home by himself, _not_ actually seeing anyone after all - should she not be taking advantage of that opportunity? What was she doing here with Ned, again?

Clarity came to her as she choked down her third bite. She had been going about this entire fiasco _completely_ wrong. She had been operating under the assumption that Gendry was, let’s say, ‘seeing someone’ - and that the best (if not only) course of action was to ignore these inappropriate thoughts and hopefully redirect her desires.

But if he wasn’t with someone… would it not be more effective, then, to… ‘get it out of her system’? 

Her body certainly seemed to be a _lot_ more interested in this new plan. The more she thought about it, the more her excitement grew - this was actually _perfect_. She could solve two problems at once. First, obviously, her extremely inconvenient attraction to him - it had come on very suddenly, and she was sure, if she just got it out of her system, it would leave just as abruptly as it had come. 

Secondly… well, she did have a certain ‘lack of experience’ in these things. Would it not be good, then, to get some practice in? She wouldn’t even have to go anywhere, since they lived together, so honestly, it was just plain practical. And so what if Gendry didn’t like her ‘that way’? She knew he at least cared about her wellbeing - he was a very safe option to practice on. Surely, if she brought it to his attention that she needed his assistance with this, he would help her out. She could leave out the whole ‘also I have sex dreams about you and pretty much _need_ to do this for my own sanity’ part. 

“Arya?”

She blinked up at Ned. Gods, she had completely forgotten about him. Had he asked her a question? Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Gendry, and how quickly she could get home to make sure he was still up, and what exact words she should use to make sure he agreed to this -

Ned really, _really_ deserved better than this.

All of a sudden words were tumbling out of her mouth faster than she could stop them, about how sorry she was, and how there was someone else, and how she thought was ready for something like this but she just wasn’t (funny, really, how she had thought she was making up an excuse and yet not one word of that felt like a lie) - 

And she wished him all the best, she truly did, as he handled the situation with grace and dignity while she basically flew out of the restaurant like a bat out of hell. She didn’t even make it to the fourth bite.

She couldn’t wait to get home. 

The whole way back, though, she began to question the plan that had seemed so brilliant just a few moments ago. Anxiety crept in while she tried to squash unwanted thoughts like - what if he just straight up said no? Part of her thought there was no way that would happen. He was a _guy,_ after all, and single, and clearly comfortable with casual encounters, and she may not be the greatest beauty in all the land but she was definitely doing _okay_ , so why wouldn’t he go along with it?

Maybe he would think it wasn’t a good idea, what with the whole ‘roommate’ thing, or maybe she was just _so_ not his type that he just really wouldn’t want anything to do with, casual or not, or maybe -

She burst into the house, a frazzled ball of pent-up anxiety and, quite frankly, sexual frustration.

He looked up from his laptop at the kitchen island in surprise, and she was just so relieved that he was still up, this must be a sign, so far so good for the plan -

“I have no idea what the hell I’m doing,” she burst out, “and I’m pretty sure it’s all your fault.”

Well, that didn’t exactly come out right.

He blinked at her.

“Sorry?”

She huffed. Lately, she had been nothing but grateful that nobody had any idea about the thoughts she was having, but right about now she really wished he would just read her mind so she didn’t have to articulate any of the things that she wanted.

“ _You_ said - you said that everybody needs practice, right, and I haven’t had any, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and I need _you_ to help me. Practice.”

He was staring at her like she was an alien who had just landed from another planet and _Gods_ did he really not know what she was talking about?

“You know.” She gestured between the two of them and raised her eyebrows in what she intended to be a suggestive manner but she was far too nervous and keyed up to pull it off properly.

And then he was frowning, and she knew, even in her amped up state, that that was not a good sign; he looked extremely put out, actually, and his jaw was clenched as he ground out -

“Why don’t you practice with your _boyfriend_ , Arya, is that not the whole point -”

“Ned is _not_ my boyfriend,” she hissed. If she was happily in a relationship with Ned, did he really think that she would storm in like this and proposition him? Who the hell was he to think something like that of her? _Well, you were literally just out on a date with him, like, not even a half hour ago -_

“He’s - what? He’s not?” He looked so confused, and most of the time she found it oddly endearing, but right now she was too wound up to feel any softness towards him.

“For your information, _no_ , he’s not. Tonight was our first date.” She was so frustrated - why were they focusing on Ned right now? She flung her purse down onto the counter dramatically, hoping it would make her feel better. It did not. 

She glared at him and watched at least six different emotions fly across his face - Gods, she hoped her own expressions were a little more controlled, watching his face was like watching a timelapse video. His features finally settled into a confused frown (why was she not surprised?) and he took a deep breath.

“Oh.”

… That’s it? It took him that long, and he went through that many different emotions, just to come up with ‘ _Oh_ ’?

“Yeah, so. Are you going to help me or not?” Gods, this was coming off a lot more aggressive than she had intended, and not in a fun, sexy way - 

“Arya… I don’t think this is the best -”

She knew it. She knew he wouldn’t go along, why had she ever thought for a second that he would? She didn’t let him finish, and instead began spewing a bunch of nonsense that she hoped nobody would hold her to later.

“Gods, _fine_ , if you really won’t help me I might as well just call Ned back and hope he’s -”

Suddenly he was there in front of her, and she was pretty sure he was cursing, and then his lips were against hers and all attempt at rational thought was thrown out the window. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Girlfriend really has a one-track mind, Ned Dayne can only distract her so much.  
> Thank you for reading, if you liked it please tell me because I am extremely needy <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Might as well just pick right up where we left off, eh?

He had grabbed her by the back of the neck with one hand and the waist with the other, and she had known he was bigger than her, obviously, in theory, but she wasn’t prepared for how _overwhelmed_ she would feel by him. She grabbed the front of his shirt for purchase, and tried to remember how to breathe as her heart thudded in her ears. 

His lips were soft - softer than she would have expected, and she still had no clue what she was doing, but that notion had been reduced to a minor inconvenience in the very back of her mind because this was _real,_ and it was actually happening - right? She sure hoped she wasn’t about to be rudely awoken from another dream.

He kept his lips slanted over hers, and she followed his lead as best she could. When she felt his tongue run against the seam of her lips, she felt a jerk in her lower belly and gasped, and he used the opportunity to continue to explore her mouth. 

This couldn’t be a dream, it _couldn’t_ , because she was feeling too much -

And yet somehow still not enough. She felt like she was slowly melting, and with each press of his lips and sweep of his tongue she felt herself grow warmer - but she wanted _more_. She wanted him to set her on fire and let her burn all the way up until there was nothing left of her at all. She had a worry that he would try to ensure he stayed ‘respectful’ (which would undoubtedly lead to her feeling unfulfilled) - she figured she’d have to move him along.

She pulled away slightly, and breathed out, “Touch me.” 

She had a split second of embarrassment at just _how_ breathy her voice sounded - she should have waited a second before speaking to catch her breath a bit, maybe cleared her throat or something first -

He cut off her train of thought by moving his lips to just below her ear. He gave her the slightest nip and it sent a jolt of electricity straight through her - could he _feel_ her heartbeat under his lips? She felt like it was literally pounding out of her body, there was no way he wouldn’t notice - 

“I am touching you,” he chuckled softly into her neck. As if to prove his point, his thumb rubbed circles into her hip bone at a maddeningly slow pace. Obviously, she was going to have to be a little more clear. 

She grabbed his face and, with a slight pang of regret, pulled him away from her neck so that she could look him in the eye. When she did, she almost faltered. Now that she was looking right at him, she couldn’t deny that this was real, and it was _Gendry_ , and -

She had the briefest of thoughts that maybe she should _stop_. Before she did something that changed things between them even more than they already had, before she did something that she couldn’t go back from. 

She _should_ stop. They both should. Right now, before anything went too far - that would be the responsible thing to do.

Good thing nobody had ever accused her of being particularly responsible. 

She looked at his slightly swollen bottom lip, and the pool of warmth in her belly spread even more. 

_Fuck it._

“More,” she urged, and tried to press herself even closer to him. He didn’t budge.

“Arya -” He had that stupid look on his face, and his brow was furrowed and she just _knew_ that he was thinking too hard and that was the last thing she needed. He was going to stop this, she knew it, he was about to, he was thinking too much -

“What do I have to do? Beg you?” She huffed out, trying to distance herself from the flash of insecurity his hesitation had brought on. She had asked _twice_ already, she was basically offering herself up to him on a silver platter, should he not be jumping at this opportunity? Her flicker of self-doubt grew in her chest; maybe he _didn’t_ want this, after all, she had been very aggressive, maybe he had felt like it was just not worth arguing over -

His response caught her off guard, as she felt his grip on her tighten and he let out a sound that seemed to be a mix between a strangled groan and a whine.

“ _Gods_ , Arya, don’t put ideas like that in my head,” he let out raggedly. He was looking down at her with eyes that were almost black, and the expression on his face sent a bolt of heat down to the tips of her toes.

_Oh._

His reaction spurred her on, and her insecurity was snuffed out as quickly as it had sprung up. He _did_ want this, he had to, there was no way he could look at her like that if he was just going through the motions so as not to have to deal with the headache of telling her no. 

Whatever was causing his hesitation, she would just have to make him forget about it - and she had a feeling she knew just the thing. 

She snaked her hand up his chest and around the back of his neck, pulling him into her and bringing her lips to his ear.

“ _Please.”_

The reaction was immediate, and if she wasn’t so distracted herself she might have found a second to tease him about it. He breathed out a stream of curses before he picked her up and set her on the countertop with a gentleness that belied the wild look in his eyes - then he was pushing her knees apart, and he was standing in between them, and did he _know_ that just last week she had imagined him doing exactly this? 

He couldn’t have, surely, but still, her little daydream coming to life made her feel breathless and a bit giddy - then his lips were on hers again, and his hands seemed to be everywhere, and she briefly registered that he _must_ have been holding back before because this was something else entirely.

His hands were roaming her thighs, her lower back, up her spine - at one point they were tangled in her hair, the next she could feel his fingers slip underneath her sweater and they were dancing along her ribcage and her heart was _pounding_ and she realized she had been so distracted by him that she had no clue what she herself had been doing. He didn’t seem to have any complaints, so she deduced she must be doing alright - her hands had found their way into his hair, and he hummed appreciatively as she ran her nails along his scalp.

She decided she _really_ liked getting a reaction out of him. Hearing him make little sounds seemed to shoot arousal through her as effectively as his hands and his lips did - she hadn’t expected that. 

She still felt like he wasn’t close enough. For as flush together as their upper bodies were, he kept just enough distance in between their lower halves that when she found herself rocking her hips slightly, looking for friction, she found none. She thought maybe he was doing it on purpose - and that just would not do.

Quick as a flash, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him to her and finally she could _feel_ him, all of him, hard against her, and the sensation made her feel like her stomach had left her body. He made a choked noise, and his thumbs dug into where they had been stroking just below her breasts and she thought she might just spontaneously combust then and there - 

Then all of a sudden he was pulling away, and his hands were gone from her and in his own hair instead, and he was stumbling out apologies as if she hadn’t been the one to initiate literally all of this and of course he would feel the need to say sorry for getting a hard on in the middle of something like _this_ \- he was such an _idiot_. 

Wasn’t she supposed to be the inexperienced one in this situation?

“Gendry.” She interrupted his rambling and grabbed his hands, placing them back on her body where, in her humble opinion, they belonged (just for _now,_ okay, not like, _forever_ , she’s definitely not thinking any sappy shit about how _right_ this feels, okay, she’s _not_ -). “It’s fine.”

He looked down at her hands holding his in place, then searched her face for any sign of insincerity or discomfort.

“Yeah?” He swallowed hard.

She couldn’t decide if she wanted to smack him for being such a dolt, or squeeze him tight and never let go in appreciation of how focused he was on not doing anything to make her uncomfortable.

“Yeah.” She bit her lip to try to clamp down the affectionate smile that was threatening to break out over her face. His eyes dropped to her lip, and his mouth parted slightly, and _Gods_ she wanted him. She wasn’t going to let whatever worries he had get in the way of getting what she wanted - what they _both_ wanted. 

He would thank her later, she was sure.

He brought his hips back to hers, and rocked his length against her, ever so slowly. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, and she was dizzy, and she _ached_ for more, but he kept everything agonizingly slow. Why was he doing this to her?

He was so gentle. And so, so _slow._ And she never would have expected those two things to set all her nerve endings on fire, but somehow, there she was, reduced to an absolute mess by his ministrations. The thought flickered briefly, in the back of her mind, that he was being _too_ soft, making her feel too precious, and that that wasn’t how this was supposed to go. If he kept on like this, he was bound to confuse her, and she wouldn’t be able to control her wild imaginings of how this must _‘mean something’_ (how very _Sansa_ of her)- 

She found it hard to care about this niggling worry, though, when one of his hands had snuck back up underneath her sweater, and was gently squeezing her breast through the flimsy bralette she had on. He pulled his hips away from her slightly, and she was about to complain, when all of a sudden his hand was there instead, creeping dangerously high up her skirt. He was caressing the soft skin of her inner thigh so close to where she wanted him ( _needed_ him) but not quite there. 

He began to nip and suck his way down her neck, and she had thrown her head back slightly to give him more room. What a sight she must make - she thought of herself, legs spread open for him on the countertop, breasts pushed up, desperate for more attention, head tossed back as he ravished her neck and she let out little whines and tried to keep herself from pleading with him for more - she was almost embarrassed.

She might have been, if he hadn’t chosen that moment to brush his thumb across her nipple through the lacy fabric. She felt like she had been mildly electrocuted, and let out a gasp while her hips jerked involuntarily. Her sudden movement caused his other thumb to brush against her through her knickers just slightly and then she was whimpering at the sudden sensation and how it was already _gone_ and - _how did people survive this?!_

She had had enough, really, he had been _teasing_ her for what felt like hours. She was taut as a bowstring and she knew, without a doubt, if he touched her where she wanted him to she would fall apart in seconds, and she spread her legs further and opened her mouth to tell him just that - 

The front door burst open and Hot Pie strolled in, his jaw dropping when he took in the scene in front of him, and she _loved_ Hot Pie, really, she did, but she had never wanted to kill someone more than she did in that moment. 

Gendry’s hands had shot away from her as if she were on fire, but then were quickly on her again almost immediately as he busied himself by desperately trying to pull her skirt down (it had almost made its way up to her _waist_ , Gods, this was humiliating). 

She did her best to slow her racing heart and flatten out her hair; she didn’t know why she was bothering, honestly, Hot Pie had clearly already seen what was going on, it’s not like she could pretend nothing had happened - her face felt extremely hot and she _wished_ , more than anything, that he could have come in even five minutes later, because she was sure she was mere moments away from a release. 

She was startled out of her flustered reverie by Hot Pie clapping his hands together, then throwing his arms out wide and exclaiming, “My children! Together at last!”

… What?

“Honestly, _finally,_ I have been - what?” He broke off and was looking past her to Gendry. She whipped her head around to see him gesturing wildly - he stopped as soon as she turned, and just continued to stare at Hot Pie with wide eyes.

Hot Pie seemed to understand perfectly - Gods, why were they so fucking _weird?_

She felt an almost hysterical laugh bubble up in her chest. 

“Well, this has been great fun,” she began. She really wanted to hop off of the counter, and she would have already, but she had a worry that her shaking legs wouldn’t hold her up. 

She decided she had to risk it.

She managed to drop down gracefully, thank the _Gods,_ and let out a shaky breath.

“I’m just going to go, and… um.” Hot Pie and Gendry were both staring at her. What was she saying? She had to go. Do something. _Think of something!_

“I’m just gonna... “ _Finish what Gendry started. By myself. So I can think properly._ She felt her face flame up again - she prayed that they had no clue what was going on in her mind.

“Bye.”

She turned and fled. Before she closed her bedroom door, she could hear them muttering to each other in low voices - they almost sounded as if they were arguing, but she couldn’t make out any of the words. 

She flung herself down onto her bed and dragged her pillow over her face. Whose idea was it to practice anything with Gendry, again? She needed to have a word with her past self.

How, exactly, was she expecting this to solve any of her problems?

She let out a low whine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot Pie is inadvertently the biggest cock block in this story. Poor Arya still unfulfilled... whatever will she do?  
> Thank you to everyone who has read this story so far, I hope you are having as much fun as I am!  
> Side note - if anybody knows why my formatting goes all whack and I end up with extra spaces before/after italicized words please let me know. I love italics (almost as much as I love using '-' in the middle of sentences) so this is really cramping my style, thank you!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes, I am very sleepy

Several minutes passed, and then she heard Gendry stomp down the hallway (Gods he was graceless) and shut himself in his room. 

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and allowed herself to admit that for a few wild moments she’d pictured him knocking on her door, or just bursting right in, and then -

And then… she didn’t know what then. 

All she knew was that she did not _want_ to continue ‘taking care of herself’ to thoughts of her roommate, but really, in situations like this, what the hell else was she supposed to do?!

Just roll over and go to sleep?

Her pulse was still racing and the throbbing between her legs was basically physically demanding her attention. She really didn’t have any other option. 

Seemingly without her permission, her fingers brushed her nipple and she felt her breath hitch. Even as a pleasant tingle ran through her, she couldn’t help but wonder at how much more intense the feelings were when it was _his_ fingers touching her rather than her own. 

She stroked herself between her legs and shuddered thinking of how his fingers would feel instead - they would be so much bigger. So much better. She thought of the feel of him pressed against her, and - 

He had been wound up too, that much was obvious even to her inexperienced self. 

Was he…would he be doing the same thing? Right on the other side of her wall?

Her stomach swooped and her heart pounded. 

Did he know what she was doing? Was he picturing it?

She imagined him, taking himself in hand and clenching his eyes shut and bringing himself to release thinking of _her_ , and the pace of her fingers increased, and -

She came hard, and she tried to keep quiet, really, she did, but if a strangled cry happened to escape and he happened to be able to hear - she found she wasn’t even a little bit sorry. 

Gods, she was getting out of hand. Somehow, she found she didn’t care in the slightest. 

**

She woke the next morning with a renewed sense of clarity and purpose. Of _course_ she was still feeling frustrated - she hadn’t gotten anything out of her system at all, and that was the whole point of this charade.

It was no wonder, really, that she didn’t feel like her problems had been solved. She had barely executed step one of her plan; she still had a lot of work to do. 

Of course her irritating attraction to him would not be abated by letting him get her all riled up and then having to take care of herself on her own - this was basically no different than what she had already been doing. That made no sense. 

Not to mention - what had she even learned, really? That his hands felt better on her than her own did? She could have guessed that. 

She had barely touched him, honestly. She still didn’t know what to… _do_ with a man. She would need hands-on practice for sure. 

She’d just have to try again. 

Unfortunately, that would have to wait - because right now, her sister was coming over. 

Sansa had been particularly insistent on visiting her ever since an awkward conversation over the break with their mother. Catelyn had asked Sansa (rather than Arya herself, of course) how Arya’s new place was and how she was settling in, to which Sansa was forced to admit that she had not been over since the very day Arya had arrived in King’s Landing.

This had disappointed Catelyn, and Sansa could not have that. She _must_ come over more. Arya didn’t really mind, not truly, her and Sansa were getting on much better than they had in their youth - but regardless, her sister wasn’t exactly the person she woke up _most_ excited to see. 

Thus, Arya found herself throwing on a pair of leggings, a faded T-shirt, and one of Jon’s old hoodies, and doing her routine perimeter check. It’s not that she didn’t _want_ to see Gendry, okay, she actually really _did_ , but not while she had other obligations who would be arriving in just under ten minutes. That was _not_ enough time for her plans (it bears to mention that her perimeter checks needed to be expanded now to include Hot Pie - she still wasn’t sure how to look him in the eye after what he had witnessed).

Luckily, the coast was clear of both of her troublesome roommates. She made her way to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and ran her fingers through her hair, attempting (feebly) to make it appear as if she hadn’t just rolled out of bed. 

By the time Sansa arrived, she had started a pot of coffee (for herself - Sansa was a ‘tea’ person) and had mentally prepared herself as much as she could to look and sound chipper. 

***

Sansa arrived not one minute before or after her anticipated arrival - how on earth did she always manage to do shit like that?

She was also, of course, perfectly put together - hair and makeup tastefully done, outfit stylish and coordinated… Arya looked down at her own ensemble and mentally shrugged. Oh well. 

Despite her consistent _slight_ aggravation at her sister’s ability to always be on time, always look great, and always ‘have her shit together’, Arya was happy to see her. 

Sansa was flitting around the kitchen and living room, cooing over the ‘decor’ - ‘ _I just_ **_love_ ** _what you’ve done with the place, Arya, minimalism is_ **_so_ ** _in right now’_ \- should she tell her it was not, in fact, minimalism, but rather living with two guys while she herself also did not give two shits about home decor? She decided not to correct her. It would please Sansa to come in and pay her home compliments - that was standard social etiquette. Her disputing said compliments would throw her sister’s systems way out of whack. Not worth the headache. 

Once she had finished her inspection of the common areas, Arya steered them to the kitchen island for a refreshing morning beverage (ie - she desperately needed coffee at this point, as well as a distraction to keep Sansa out of her room which was certainly not up to her standards of cleanliness, organization, and coordination). 

She listened to Sansa's updates on her classes, her despair over receiving a dreaded A- on her recent assignment, and some long convoluted and dramatic story involving a bunch of people whose names she could not keep straight, a group chat, and a misplaced dinner invite, and really, everything was going just fine.

Things went off the rails for her, as they always seemed to, when she pulled off her hoodie at the same time that Sansa took a sip of her chamomile tea and then proceeded to positively choke on it - she made some distinctly unladylike noises, actually. Arya was relieved there was nobody else around to witness it - the horror! The indignity! It would be a mess. 

She realized Sansa was staring at her slightly wide-eyed (why? She wasn’t the one hacking up a lung over here) before she daintily raised an eyebrow. She must have recovered from her near death experience. 

“I take it the date with Ned went well, then?”

Where did that come from?

Arya blinked in confusion, and frowned a bit, and Sansa was looking all amused and honestly a little bit _smug_ , and… what the hell?

“Not really, no.” She didn’t really feel like offering any additional insight. She wasn’t sure how to put ‘I bailed not even halfway through the meal to come home and make out with my hot roommate instead’ in a way that wouldn’t lead to an undoubtedly dull and reprimanding lecture.

Her response seemed to rid Sansa of her smugness, leaving her looking as puzzled as Arya felt. 

“Oh. I just figured, since…” She gestured to Arya’s neck. She tried to look down to see what Sansa was talking about but, as it turns out, it is indeed impossible to inspect one's own neck from that angle. 

“What?”

At this point, Sansa had abandoned all of her subtle hints and eyebrow raises and just seemed exasperated. 

“What do you mean, what? Have you seen your neck? Do you even _own_ a mirror?” 

Arya frowned again. Of course she owned a mirror. Sansa had helped her pick it out. This must be a rhetorical question. As such, she did not deem it worthy of a response. She pursed her lips instead. 

Sansa seemed to sense that her current tactics were not going to get her the answers she needed. She sighed and started over. 

“Sorry. I’m just… surprised. If it didn’t go well, I didn’t think you’d let him… you know. Mark you up like that.”

Mark her.. what?

Her eyes widened and her heart thudded uncomfortably as she thought of the attention that Gendry had paid her neck last night and - could she _see_ that?

She felt a flush creep up her chest as heat flooded her face. Unfortunately, thinking of his lips and _teeth_ on her last night also caused a rush of arousal to shoot through her and - Gods this was _so_ not the time for that. 

She felt like her brain was frozen as she desperately tried to think of something to say - she didn’t want to lie to Sansa, truly (she’d probably see right through her anyway) but how exactly was she supposed to explain this?

She was rescued from actually needing to respond when the front door opened, distracting them both. Then Gendry came in and - she wasn’t sure if this was her saving grace after all. He seemed surprised to them there, and froze in the entryway. 

“Hey,” he managed to get out. At least he was managing words, so he was doing better than _her_ , but he was still just standing there awkwardly and - why did her life always go like this?

She was trying to get it together, honestly, she was, but… had he always been so handsome? He looked a little bit flushed, and a little bit windswept, and he was dressed like… had he been running? It was the _weekend_. And early. What a sociopath. 

He was taking her in in much the same way - she watched his gaze sweep over her and wondered what he thought. There was no way his thoughts could be as complimentary as hers - she wished she would have been a bit more presentable. She felt acutely aware of how inefficient her finger-brushing of her hair was, and how red her cheeks felt, and - maybe none of that mattered, actually, because once his eyes reached her neck he seemed equally as focused there as Sansa had been. 

His lips parted slightly, and he just kept staring, and was he going to say anything or even properly enter the house? She couldn’t take this anymore. Logically, he had likely only been standing there for several seconds but it felt like an _eternity_ and - had Sansa noticed this strange behaviour?

She ripped her gaze away from him to see her sister’s eyes raking over Gendry’s form, one eyebrow slightly raised in appreciation. 

She felt like clawing Sansa’s eyes out.

Guilt flooded her instantly and berated herself for letting a flash of her old jealousy spring up. She was _past_ this, okay, she didn’t care that Sansa was a ‘great beauty’ while she was ‘cute to some people who had specific tastes’, really, it was fine, and Gendry wasn’t _hers_ , anyway, so Sansa could look all she wanted. She didn’t _care._ Really.

Despite all of that clearly being the absolute truth, she still felt like… she wished Sansa would have left before Gendry came home. Or never come over at all. And that they never would have met so she never would have had to see her look at him and then she wouldn’t have to feel this awful… whatever it was. 

She registered, briefly, that they were making introductions, and then Gendry was clearing his throat and announcing that he was going to shower and - did he have to disclose that to the whole room? Really? She couldn’t have stopped the images that flew through her mind if she tried - visions of Gendry, as the water rained down on him, droplets running down his chest and his _back_ and - she watched him retreat to the bathroom and took a deep breath.

Her eyes flitted back to Sansa and - oh no.

This was not good.

She was looking smug again. Smug, and like she knew something, and that was overall guaranteed to be a terrible combination -

“So. _That’s_ your roommate?” She had one eyebrow raised.

“Mmhmm.” Arya suddenly found a (perhaps imaginary, but hey, leave her alone) stray fluff on her leggings extremely fascinating. There was no way she could look at Sansa when she could instead be gazing at this fluff. What a shame.

“You didn’t mention he looked like that.” Ugh, even without looking at her she could just picture the knowing look on her sister’s stupid face.

“I didn’t find it relevant to any of our previous conversations,” she stated stiffly.

“So let me get this straight. You go out with Ned last night - from your own mouth, you said, it did not go particularly well. So then, one can only assume, you would come home. Where you live with a guy like _that_ , who looks at you like _that_ , and all of a sudden you are spontaneously covered in mysterious hickeys…”

Well it sounded really absurd when it was put like that. And - what did she mean he looks at her ‘like that’? Like...what, exactly? She wanted to know, but she would _not_ give her the satisfaction of asking. Asking would be like admitting… something. And she would _not_ admit to anything.

She went on the defensive instead.

“If you have a question you want to ask me, Sansa, then just do it.”

Hmm. That came out saltier than intended. She bit her lip in regret at her outburst - she should have kept her cool, just shrugged and not given her the satisfaction of showing any emotion whatsoever, because _clearly_ she was way off-base -

“Just… Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

_Abso-fucking-lutely not._

“Yes. Everything is perfectly fine.” She finally met Sansa’s eyes (she _had_ to, if she had any chance of convincing her that this blatant lie contained a modicum of truth) and felt more remorse when she saw nothing but genuine concern on her face. Well, she had no reason to stress. Everything would be just fine once she had fully executed her plan. Somehow, she didn’t think informing Sansa of said plan would do anything to ease her worries so - she decided she’d best just keep it to herself for now. **  
**

**

Once Sansa headed out (with only a few more meaningful gazes and well-wishes for her 'love life') she figured she could use the afternoon to actually get some studying done - surprisingly, her mind had been a little bit _preoccupied_ lately, and she wasn’t necessarily as on top of things as she would like to be.

She could think of a couple other things she would _rather_ be spending her afternoon doing, but - well, Gendry had not emerged from his room, and as much as she wanted to embrace her plan and go in guns blazing - the idea of seeking him out, if he wasn’t necessarily trying to see her… well, it made her feel like shrivelling up into a ball, to be perfectly honest, so she wasn’t about to go do that.

She sighed glumly to herself and resigned herself to having a bit of a pity party while she studied, and that is exactly what she did. For about twenty minutes.

Then all of a sudden he was in the kitchen, carrying his laptop, and he looked, as always, surprised to see her (it’s like he still didn’t realize that she lived here), and was stumbling out something stupid about how he could leave if she didn’t want him there -

She couldn’t let him leave. Even if she wasn’t sure if he was wanting to continue with her _plan_ , at the very least, she wanted to be able to just spend time with him like a normal human - that was equally important. 

This would be a great step in the right direction. She could totally do this. So she told him as much.

He sat down beside her, and they worked in silence for several minutes. She snuck a couple glances at him, but he seemed _extremely_ focused on the screen in front of him. Like, super focused. She had hoped he might be sneaking glances at her too, but she had just accepted the fact that they would just sit in slightly awkward silence for the rest of the afternoon when suddenly -

“I’m sorry about… you know.” He gestured to her neck briefly, then went back to resolutely staring at his laptop. “Got a bit… carried away, I s’pose.” He ran a hand through his hair, and he still wasn’t looking at her, and she was a little bit glad of that now, honestly, because it meant he couldn’t see how much his few words affected her. She felt a warmth creep through her, and bit her lip to keep a grin from sneaking onto her face. She liked the thought of him getting carried away. She liked thinking that maybe he felt as wild and out of control as she did in those moments. It made her feel - good. Wanted. Bold. Maybe he _did_ want to carry on with her plan.

“I liked it.” 

He finally looked up at this, and the little smirk he gave her made her feel like her stomach was full of extremely active grasshoppers. 

“I could tell.”

“Oh, shut _up_ ,” she grumbled, and couldn’t help the eye roll that followed. She wasn’t really irritated though, not truly, and _ugh_ … she was sure he could tell that too. She needed to regain control of the situation.

“You’ll just have to do it somewhere less visible next time.”

She let the ‘next time’ hang in the air between them, one eyebrow raised in challenge. _Ball’s in your court, roomie._ She felt a blush creeping up her chest. Hey, at least she tried. She said she would try again, and here she was, doing it. Honestly, props to her. 

He swallowed hard, and his eyes focused on her neck where she knew his handiwork was still on full display. She could swear his eyes darkened, and she felt a jolt of excitement. She was getting to know that look now - he wouldn’t say no. She almost shivered. Okay - this was actually going a lot better than expected.

“Yeah, I… I could do that.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and she almost leaned in to try to capture it - but she wouldn’t allow herself to do that. She was _winning,_ for once, right now. At least, she was pretty sure she was. She was having too much fun not to be. 

He took a steadying breath. 

“Arya -“

She whacked him playfully with her pen. 

“No no no! No more distractions. I have some _extremely_ important notes to take.” She grinned at him, unable to shake the giddy feeling she was experiencing as she sat there with him. He wanted to keep practicing, he basically said so, and for once _he_ was the one trying to move things along and - she was in control now. This was _fun_. 

“As m’lady commands,” he chuckled softly and ran his hand through his hair again. 

She shoved him playfully and smiled to herself as she went back to her work. She _knew_ she had had a good plan - look at them, sitting together, studying, smiling, everything was perfectly -

Then she chanced a glance over at him and cursed herself internally. The way he was leaning forwards onto the countertop was causing his arms to positively bulge - what business did he have, sitting like that? She tried to calm her quickly escalating thoughts that were focused on how _strong_ he was, and how much bigger than her he was, and how easily he could pick her up and - his eyes flickered over to her subtly before quickly focusing back on his screen.

Wait was he - doing this on purpose? Was he _flexing_? That little _shit_. 

She felt mirth bubble up inside her and quickly stifled it. She still wasn’t sure how she could simultaneously feel like teasing him mercilessly while also wanting nothing more than to climb him like a tree.

Well. If he thought he could distract her - two could play at that game.

She threw her arms over her head and stretched back as far as she could with a contented sigh. And if this happened to cause her shirt to ride up, exposing a strip of her midriff, well. It was just a coincidence. She could feel his eyes on her and it really was making her a little bit warm - but she couldn’t give in now. She didn’t meet his gaze, and instead carried on ‘studying’. 

He was definitely watching her, that much was obvious. What else could she do? The obscene thought crossed her mind that she should suck on the end of her pen - Gods, what was wrong with her? She couldn’t do that. Not only was it not subtle _at all_ , she probably wouldn’t even look cute doing it, and that would derail the whole purpose of the mission.

She settled for tapping it lightly against her bottom lip instead.

He cleared his throat, and she finally glanced over at him. He was back to staring down at his laptop but she could _see_ his eyes, okay, and they were not moving at all, and he definitely wasn’t typing anything, and how was he this bad at pretending he was actually working? His left pinky was tapping incessantly against the countertop, and she bit her lip in anticipation - he was going to crack, she could feel it, and she was elated -

“Hot Pie’s out.” 

_Victory._

“Is he?” She pursed her lips as she tried not to let him see her smile. She needn’t have bothered - he was still burning holes into his laptop screen with his unmoving gaze.

“Mmm.” His affirmative hum was the only sign that he had even heard her.

… Was that it?

Gods, did she have to do everything herself? She couldn’t resist rolling her eyes as she slammed her textbook shut and rose from her seat.

“Okay. Come on,” she announced. She grabbed a hold of his wrist, and pulled him from his own seat. She began dragging him in the general direction of her bedroom and almost laughed when she heard what she was pretty sure was him tripping over his own feet - then suddenly he dug his heels in, and she turned around to find him looking at her like a deer in the headlights.

“Where’re we going?” 

“To my room, Gendry, it’s fine.” Had he not _been_ there just last night when Hot Pie had stumbled in on them? Did he really want to live through something like that again? For what she had in mind, she would very much like to be somewhere with a _door_. 

He looked like he might protest, so she just carried on without him hoping he would smarten up and follow her.

He did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically this whole fic is just me amusing myself and I guess nothing makes me laugh more than every person seeing them interact one time and going "oh... it's like THAT" while these two idiots have no idea what's going on for literally ages.
> 
> THANK YOU to everyone who is reading and especially if you are leaving comments or kudos as it makes me excited and motivated to carry on :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you build up some smut for your whole fic and then remember you don't know how to write smut  
> ENJOY

Once they were both inside, and the door clicked shut, she suddenly felt - nervous. And definitely a bit self-conscious, as she looked around at the piles of clothes on her floor and the multitude of her belongings strewn all over the place (you’d think she could have planned ahead a little bit more and tidied up a bit, but no, of course not, things never went that way for her). 

It seemed very quiet - should she say something? Should he say something? Maybe she should just shove him onto the bed or something instead. His eyes were darting about all over the place, and she just knew he was never going to forget how messy she was, she needed to distract him before it was too late - but he beat her to it. 

“You’re sure this is… okay?” He had torn his gaze from her unmade bed, and he was looking at her so… gentle. He was such an idiot.

“I literally dragged you in here.” 

His eyes weren’t meeting hers anymore; he was instead staring at where her wall met her ceiling and mumbling out, “I know that, but if you, you know, change your mind, about anything, just....”

He took a deep breath and brought his stare back to her.

“Tell me, yeah?”

She almost bit out a sarcastic retort - she was about to, honestly, but somehow the look on his face and the earnestness in his expression made the words freeze up in her throat and her stomach twisted in a way that made her a bit nervous but wasn’t necessarily bad, and - all she could do was chew on her lip and nod jerkily. 

Suddenly one of his hands was cradling the back of her head, while the other was on her chin. He gently thumbed her bottom lip, causing her to promptly stop biting on it and inhale shakily instead, and she felt like her heart may have literally stopped beating, and - could she die from this?

He was still looking into her eyes and she didn’t know what she saw in them, really, but whatever it was was enough to make her feel warm and tingly all over and _Gods_ how was she already such a mess when he hadn’t even done anything?

It was madness.

She couldn’t say for certain whether she reached up, or he leaned down, or they both leaned in, or what the hell happened, but before she knew it their lips met, and she felt like she could breathe again. Like _this_ was what she had been missing, and she _needed_ it, and - had it felt this good yesterday? Had she forgotten already? How was she supposed to ever stop doing this, again?

He pushed her up against the door and she pushed all thoughts of stopping out of her mind. He seemed to get a little more bold with every kiss and every touch, as if each one was a teasing experiment to see how much he could get away with. His hands trailed lower and lower, down to her waist, then her hips, and then - he had both of her ass cheeks cupped in his large hands and he was lifting her up and she was squeaking in surprise. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he was flush against her, and from what she could feel of his erection she figured she shouldn’t have been worried about getting _so_ turned on _so_ quickly because she clearly wasn't alone.

She groaned into his mouth and rocked her hips against his. She wasn’t sure if anything could get her going more than the feeling of his hard length against her - it was a constant reminder that he _wanted_ her, and it was _real_ , _she_ did this to him, and _fuck_. 

It made her wet.

She continued to rub herself against him, but she needed more - she felt like all she was doing was driving herself crazy (driving them both crazy, actually, by the sound of his ragged breathing when he finally tore his lips from hers).

“Bed,” she whispered in his ear, and then he was carrying her, and her legs were still wrapped around him, and she had one hand in his hair while the other rested on his chest and she could _feel_ his heart and the way it was racing just as fast as hers. She kept it there, each pounding beat a reassurance to her that he was just as affected as she was, and that they were in this _together_ , and this was _right_ -

_You’re not ‘together’ though._

She _hated_ her brain. 

He set her down with her head up by her pillows, and he was hovering over her, and it was _fine_ that they weren’t together, this was all part of the plan, it was what she _wanted -_

“What’s wrong?” He had pulled his hands away from her, and he was no longer on top of her but sitting upright and looking - well, a bit panicked. “I’m sorry - did I -”

“No!” She rushed to cut him off. She couldn’t listen to his apologies when he hadn’t done anything but follow her lead and any problems she was having were her own stupid fault - she felt heat flood her face and she wanted her bed to just swallow her up whole.

What was she supposed to even say? 

She blurted out the first thing she could think of that was close enough to the truth but avoided any mention of remorse about all of this just being ‘practice’ (and how she just knew, she _knew_ if they went all the way that it would mean more to her than it did to him, and wouldn’t that lead to her feeling _worse_ instead of better?).

“I don’t want to have sex. Yet. Or, today, I mean.” She cringed and waited for some sort of reaction from him. She thought of Sansa, unexpectedly, and the horrible names her ex Joffrey had called her when she found herself in a similar position - but no, that was unfair, Gendry was nothing like him, and she knew that, or they wouldn’t be here at all. He _asked_ her to tell him if she wanted to stop. She reasoned it would still be perfectly fair, though, for him to be annoyed. She was giving off nothing but mixed signals and he was already confused enough without shit like this happening.

“Okay.” He just looked perplexed - see, this is exactly what she was talking about, he never knew what was going on. He was staring at her like she was the one who was supposed to elaborate - shouldn’t he have more to say than ‘okay’?

He seemed content to just blink at her and the seconds ticked by and she couldn’t stand the silence -

“Is that… fine?” Gods, this was the worst conversation of her entire life, what was wrong with her? She wished she could go back in time and stop herself from even starting this whole downward spiral. Why the hell had she chosen _this_ over having his hands and mouth on her?! She determined that she was, without a doubt, her own worst enemy.

“What? Of course that’s fine, what are you -” He broke off in confusion, and ran a hand through his hair. She never should have brought any of this up, at this rate it was seeming like if they didn’t have sex he wouldn’t have even _noticed_ \- though, to be fair, she supposed there hadn’t been much blood left in his brain. 

“Okay. I just thought I’d kind of, you know, made it seem like… that would happen. Today. So. I didn’t want to be… unclear. I guess.” Gods, she wished her mouth would stop moving. Couldn’t he shut her up or something? Just kiss her again and distract her until she forgot about this?

“Arya.” He said it so softly. Why did his near-whisper of her name like that make her feel so much...longing? She wondered bemusedly if she had always been this poetic - she thought perhaps not.

“Just tell me what you _do_ want.” She blinked at him. Well, that seemed like a fairly straightforward solution. Why was she always thinking he was an idiot, again? Clearly that title should belong to her and her alone. Okay - think. What _did_ she want? She had just had a pretty rude awakening that she was not, in fact, ‘ready’ for _everything_. But she could still have… something, right? She was pretty sure that was what real adults referred to as a compromise, and something they did all the time. That seemed reasonable. 

She exhaled slowly and tried to work up the courage to put her desires into words. He was leaning over her again, propping himself up on his arms, and he was beautiful, and patient, and - she had to have _something_. Some part of him - of being with him, and knowing what that was like. She didn’t care if she was doing it for the wrong reasons, if she had a sneaking suspicion that this would get _nothing_ out of her system at all and would only make her ache for him more - she couldn’t ( _wouldn’t_ ) let him walk out of here without... _something._ If she was going to be responsible, and not actually sleep with him, she deserved at least this, right?

She swallowed. Her heart pounded.

“I want… I want you to touch me.” _That’s not all though - be honest. It’s now or never._

“I want you to make me come.” She was almost whispering, and she felt like the words were hanging in the air for the shortest of instants - maybe she shouldn’t have said them, whether they were the truth or not, it was too bold -

“ _Fuck_ , Arya -” She decided she _really_ liked it when he cursed. She liked it even better when he captured her lips with his, and kissed her senseless while his free hand trailed up and down her side beneath her t-shirt. If it felt that nice when he did that to her, she figured it would feel good for him if she did it too. She snuck both of her hands up under his shirt, and Gods his skin was soft, but his body was hard, and - how was he even real? She wanted to explore every inch of him. He pulled back slightly to sit up and she almost whimpered - then he was pulling his shirt up over his head and, okay, _fuck_ yes. Her breath caught in her throat as she took him in, and she marvelled again that this was even happening. She decided she fucking _loved_ a good compromise. She bit her lip as she glimpsed his small patch of hair disappearing _down_ , and she wanted to follow it. With her fingers, at least, or her _tongue_ , and - she _could_ do that, if she wanted, couldn’t she? The thought sent a thrill through her. 

First things first, though. He had made the playing field uneven - why should he be the only one divested of a shirt? She quickly sat up herself, and pulled her shirt off in one swift motion. While earlier she had regretted her casual attire, right now she was eternally grateful that it involved no bra. She felt her nipples pucker as the cooler air hit them - or was that just from his gaze? _No,_ she reasoned _, there’s no way._ Regardless, the look on his face spread fire through her veins, and she found herself amazed, yet again, at just how wet she was when she had barely been touched. Then, before she knew it, he _was_ touching her, and she couldn’t think at all.

He was squeezing her breasts lightly, as though getting himself acquainted with how they felt in his hands. He gently pinched one nipple, and she almost yelped, but then his _mouth_ was on the other and - the feel of his wet tongue on her sent bolts of electricity straight to her cunt and she let out a shuddering gasp. She was throbbing between her legs, and he was licking, and pinching, and _biting_ , and - she was pretty sure she was writhing beneath him. She had thrown one arm behind her head to try and grab _something_ (why she thought that would help her, she’s not sure), and said hand was now futilely grasping a pillow while the other was gripping his hair (probably too tightly) and she tried desperately to steady herself because she was going to fall apart and it was too _soon_ -

Then his hand was gone, and she tried to remember how to breathe. His mouth had moved off of her nipple and she tried to slow her hammering heart. His free hand had shifted, though, and now it was hitching one of her legs up around his waist and she hadn’t thought he could feel any closer but now he _did_. His hand was trailing up the back of her thigh, over her ass and back down again - closer and closer to her center, every time, and he _must_ be doing it on purpose. He was almost there, and his mouth had drifted just slightly to the center of her chest and she _knew_ this feeling - he must be taking her up on her offer, she thought vaguely, to mark her up in a less obvious spot. The thought pleased her. She ground her hips against his - she might have been doing this all along, come to think of it. She really couldn’t say. 

He tore his mouth away from her chest and she couldn’t help but let out a small whine at the loss of contact. He was looking down at her with a silent question in his eyes, and his fingers danced across the top of her leggings and - _yes_.

She gave him a breathless nod, and, impossibly, his eyes darkened further. He looked like he might say something - his mouth opened, anyway, and then - maybe he thought better of it, and he gave her a quick kiss instead, and it was...chaste. And sweet. And it warmed her heart, but then he was moving down her body, and he was peeling her leggings off and _Gods_ they were tight, and why had she never realized before how incredibly inconvenient they were? She was starting to understand the appeal of skirts more and more. She felt like she would never be rid of the damn things, but finally she _was_ , and she realized just how bare she was before him, with nothing but her knickers on. She didn’t have time to be self-conscious, though, because soon enough he was kissing her again, and any chasteness from a moment ago was nowhere to be found. These kisses felt _hungry_ , and desperate, and when he finally, _finally_ slipped his hand down and ran his fingers over her mound she couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

He shoved her panties to the side, and she felt a delicious thrill at the thought that he wasn’t going to take them off - that seemed even _better_ , somehow, like neither of them had - 

She never finished that thought, because he chose that moment to drag his finger through her slick, swollen folds and her heart stopped. She gasped in pleasure, even as she realized there was no hiding, now, the full extent of the effect that he had on her. If he had had any doubts, despite the sounds she’d been making, about how she was doing, he _definitely_ knew now. He cursed and briefly rested his forehead against hers - she took this to be an overall positive response.

He began dragging his lips down her neck, then to her collarbone, and then _lower_ , and his teasing finger _finally_ slid into her, and she let out a desperate whimper. She _knew_ his fingers would feel better than hers but _Gods_ -

He didn’t let up. He continued to work her with his finger, teasingly slowly, of _course_ , and then he added a second, and she couldn’t stop the frantic motion of her hips as she tried to get _more._ Then his mouth was back on her nipple, and he bit down gently, and his thumb rubbed a slow circle into her clit and -

_Oh._

Her vision flashed white and her back was arched and she could feel her heartbeat in her throat, and her fingers, and her toes, and she let out a noise that she couldn’t even describe but she didn’t _care_.

She had her eyes clenched shut, and he kept working at her as she shuddered and jerked and whimpered, riding out every possible jolt of pleasure from her orgasm. She tried to catch her breath, and she realized her eyes were still closed but her mouth was gaping open and _Gods_ she must look a mess. She kind of cared, a little, in theory, but at the moment she just felt like her whole body had turned to liquid and she couldn’t be bothered to worry too much about anything.

Eventually she managed to open her eyes. He was looking at her like - well, like _something,_ that was for sure. She decided the only course of action was to look right back. As she did, she felt like she was waking from a dream - she remembered her desire, from earlier, to explore every bit of him, and realized what a lamentable job she had been doing so far. She bit her lip as a now all-too-familiar jolt of excitement shot through her - she still had _so much_ to find out. 

Besides, things were uneven right now. He had seen her (all of her, pretty much, let’s be real), and he had just watched her come undone, while he was still completely in control (with far, far too many clothes on). How was that fair at all? She wanted to change that. She wanted to touch him, to have _him_ be the one who was reduced to a gasping mess. She wanted to watch him fall apart. Because of _her_. 

And she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of this afternoon delight would surely have been a better fit as just all one chapter but smut is HARD and I need a break but I want to post because posting is fun!!  
> Thank you to everyone who has read this far and if you are still reading after this I love you forever <3  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do I need to write a summary - y'all know what's going down here

Well, she _hoped_ she would, at least. Truth be told… she didn’t really know where to start. She would have to let him know in some way what she was wanting to have happen next. She figured she should probably trail her hands down his body seductively, until she got to the button of his jeans, then she could pop it open and slide his zipper down tantalizingly slowly -

“Take your pants off.”

Okay. Or that. Why didn’t her mouth listen to her brain? She hadn’t even done her sexy tantalizing hands yet. 

He didn’t seem to mind - he seemed in a bit of a hurry to follow her directions, actually. He promptly rolled off of her, and hastily fumbled to do as she told him. She registered briefly, as his fingers (that had just been so careful and deliberate on her body as they brought her pleasure) stumbled twice over his button, that maybe (just maybe) he was as nervous as she was. 

The thought made her heart beat faster in her chest - she did not want to pause to think about why. 

He finally wrestled himself free and tossed his jeans somewhere to the side of her bed - she figured they’d fit right in with the rest of her mess of clothes on the floor. Good thing she hadn’t tidied up. 

He was stretched out on the bed, and had turned to face her. She took in every glorious part of him - revelling, really, in the fact that she didn’t have to pretend, for once, that that _wasn’t_ what she was doing. Her eyes followed the long lines of his legs, up his thighs, and then - she was unashamedly staring at his simple black boxer briefs and where she could _clearly_ see the outline of his cock as it strained against them. Warm heat pooled between her legs once more and she desperately wanted to keep her breathing steady but she _couldn’t_ \- she hoped he wouldn’t notice. She had to move on before he picked up on the fact that she was pretty much outright panting at the sight of him, hard for her - she wouldn’t live that down. With regret, she tore her eyes away and continued her examination, up his toned stomach, and strong chest, and finally to his face, and - he _was_ nervous. She was pretty sure. He was staring at her with eyes that were a little too wide, and not blinking quite enough, and he seemed a bit frozen - she wondered why. 

He certainly hadn’t seemed too shy while he had his mouth on her tits and his fingers inside of her - what the hell was the difference?

She had to distract him. He’d probably appreciate it, really. It’s what she had wanted while she had her (extremely minor) spiral earlier. He would thank her, later, most likely. 

With this selfless thought in mind, she rolled onto her side to face him fully, grasped his neck and kissed him - slow. This had everything to do with helping him, okay, and nothing to do with her wanting to lay here with him, and embrace him, and take her time with it as if it would never come to an end. 

Despite her best efforts to drag things out (and have her be the one distracting _him_ , for once) - soon he was caressing the dip of her waist and his tongue was in her mouth and she didn’t feel like taking things so slow after all. 

She raked her fingernails down his back, exhilarating at the little sigh he let out when she did. 

She kept exploring - she could touch as much of him as she wanted, really, and surely she should take full advantage of this opportunity, right? She brought her hand to his chest, and ghosted her fingers along it, then continued further and further down. She traced his abs, feeling them seem to clench under her touch (involuntarily, she felt herself clenching as well - her thighs were pressed together, and a bolt of pleasure ran through her, and - she couldn’t get distracted, she _wouldn’t,_ this was about _him_ -). 

She followed the trail of hair on his lower abdomen, just as she’d imagined herself doing, and when she reached the band of his briefs, his grip on her tightened, and her heart hammered, and - she traced it back up again. 

Okay, well, that was fine. She was teasing him, maybe, just like he’d done to her, and in the end it had only made things more intense, so it was all good. Right?

She repeated the motion, and - she froze again. Gods dammit, what was _wrong_ with her? She wanted to touch him. More than anything. Why wouldn’t her hands cooperate? Had he noticed her falter? She felt her nerves creep in, stronger and stronger, and there was a voice in her head reminding her that she had no idea what she was _doing_ , and he wasn’t inexperienced like she was, he had things to compare this to, and he would _know_ if she did a terrible job, and -

“Arya.”

She supposed she must have stopped kissing him, at some point, if his mouth was free to speak to her. She forced herself to meet his eyes, and - why did he always have to look at her like that? It was so _tender_ and she felt so cared about and fuck she _knew_ he was going to confuse her with this shit - how was she supposed to keep her head, and remember what this really was, when he was always looking at her like that?

“Have you -” He broke off and cleared his throat. “Have you...done this before?” He was still looking at her, and his eyes were so fucking blue, and so soft, and - she was in trouble.

She didn’t trust her voice to not betray her. She bit her lip to make sure no words slipped out and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. She felt nervous for his reaction - she didn’t want to lie to him, obviously, but she had not been opposed to him not exactly knowing just how much experience (or lack thereof) she truly had. Maybe she would be a complete natural, and he would have had no idea that she didn’t know what was going on, and it would never have had to be brought up because it would probably make him act stupid - it was too late for any of that now, though.

“Okay,” he breathed out, and it was so quiet she almost missed it. He had closed his eyes, and he was nodding a bit (to himself, she was pretty sure), and there was a slight crease between his brows where a hint of a frown had formed.

“Okay.” He repeated the same statement, with a bit more confidence this time. Her hand still felt frozen, and she was chewing her lip, and she had an uncomfortable shaky, jittery feeling in her lower belly and she wished he would say something else because she was _nervous_ -

“You don’t - you know you don’t have to -” His eyes were still shut, and his frown had intensified to the point where he actually looked like he was a bit pained, and of course she knew she didn’t _have_ to do anything but did he really think she didn’t want to? Could he be that dense?

“I want to.” She wished it came out more self-assured, but it was almost a whisper and she _hoped_ it would be enough, she had to make him understand -

His eyes flew open, and she couldn’t _breathe_ when he looked at her like that - with want, and longing, and a little bit of fear, and a little bit of - (she stopped herself right there).

He swallowed, and his eyes searched hers, and she wondered what he saw in them. If he could pick up on every little thing that was racing through her. Part of her hoped he could - that he would know everything she was thinking, everything she was _feeling_ , and he would not only accept it but be _happy_ about it - the other part of her thought that there would be nothing on this earth that could be more terrifying.

“Yeah?” He let out quietly, and whatever he saw in her face had erased his frown, at least, and he looked almost hopeful, and maybe she could make him understand, after all.

She took a deep breath and resigned herself to at least try.

“I just... “ She swallowed. “I don’t know what to do.”

He let out a slow breath, and he blinked at her repeatedly, and she was beginning to worry that he wouldn’t say or do anything at all, and they would just lie here and stare at each other in silence for the rest of time - then his hand slid down, over the curve of her ass, and he gripped it firmly.

“Do whatever you want.” His voice was low, and rough, and maybe even a little bit desperate, and it shot a thrill through her. 

She could do this. 

He wanted her to - and he _knew_ , he knew she had no idea what she was doing, and he didn’t care. She didn’t have to worry about trying to make him think she was some kind of connoisseur, or make sure he didn’t pick up on her nerves, or the fact that she was second-guessing her every move - she never would have thought that would be so comforting. She felt like a weight had been lifted off of her - _she_ was in control. She could do whatever she wanted. He had just said so. She figured, logically, that this really was a wonderful learning opportunity.

She took a deep breath, and then her hand was brushing over him, gently, through the fabric of his briefs, and the little shuddering exhale she heard from him spurred her on.

She applied a bit more pressure, and repeated the same slow motion. She gave him a little squeeze, and he canted his hips towards her.

She needed to feel more of him. She pulled her hand away, determined to divest him of his briefs, and she felt like his cock almost _twitched_ trying to follow her fingers as they left him - then she was tugging on the band, and he got the memo, thankfully, and he was lifting his hips and reaching down to hurriedly try to help her.

He managed to free himself, and she was pretty sure he threw his briefs onto the floor too - he really was throwing a lot of stuff around, he shouldn’t judge her for having clothes all over her floor if he was going to behave this way - 

And then all thoughts of her clothes and her floor were gone from her mind and all she could think about was him, and his body, and how his hard length was there right in front of her, on full display; it seemed like it was begging to be touched, really, so she saw no reason to hold back.

She dragged her pointer finger from the base to the tip, and wondered at how something so hard could feel so soft at the same time. His skin was almost silky smooth - she circled her finger around the head and when he let out a ragged breath she finally tore her eyes from his lower body and brought them up to his face. 

She’d thought he might have his eyes shut, like she often did when she was feeling pleasure, but he didn’t - they were open, and they were watching the movements of her hand, and his lips were parted, and -

Fuck, she wanted him. All of him. But - no. No, she had made a decision - she had to honour it. It was for her own good. She wrapped her fingers around him fully, and gave him a slow pump, and she couldn’t help but compare, as she did, the difference in width between what she was currently holding and the width of two fingers, whether his were bigger than hers or not, and - it was substantial. She had felt full with his fingers inside her (at least, she thought she had - but maybe, she reasoned, she just didn’t know, yet, what being full _really_ felt like, but she would, she was sure, if his cock was in her -) she broke herself off from this dangerous line of thinking.

She kept working at him, trying different things as they came to her, and paying attention, as much as she could, to his reactions. 

She had increased her speed, and was focused on the tip, and he must like this, she figured, as he was pretty much kneading his fingers into her ass, and _now_ his eyes were clenched shut, and he looked like he might be in pain, actually, but he wasn’t _complaining_ so he must be okay -

She slowed her hand a bit, just in case.

“Fuck -” Was that a good ‘fuck’, or a bad ‘fuck’? She had to know.

“Is this okay?” Why did she have to sound so breathless? Nothing was even _happening_ to her. She slowed her movements further, just to be safe -

“Gods - it’s -” 

She needed him to elaborate - she blinked up at him.

“Just -” Honestly, he was so bad with words sometimes -

“Keep going -” Okay, then. That was all she needed. Was that so hard? She was a fast learner, in her opinion, and she did not need to be told twice.

She resumed her speed, and he groaned and used the hand that was firmly planted on her ass to try to pull her closer, and she felt a rush of something that was almost pride, but not exactly, because usually pride alone didn’t make her feel _heat_ like this -

He had managed to bring her closer, she assumed, as the tip of him brushed against her lower belly and he let out a choked noise. It really was so silky, and she determined, as her heart pounded, that she liked the feel of it against her skin. She liked the feel of _him_ as he slowly but surely lost control - because it was obvious, now, even to her, that that was what was happening, and he had started thrusting into her hand jerkily, and then -

“Arya - _shit_ -”

And then it was over, and he was coating her lower belly, and her hand, and probably also her sheets, and she had a brief thought about how messy the whole thing was, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. And really, all things considered, it had not been all that difficult. What was she so worried about earlier?

He slowly released his hold on her, and she realized how tight his grasp had truly been - she wondered if his fingers had left marks on the fair skin of her ass cheek. She felt an excited jerk in her lower belly. She hoped they had.

She lay beside him, praying her heartbeat would slow and the renewed ache between her legs would abate. Was this just an endless cycle? Would she ever be satisfied?

He cleared his throat, and it came to her abruptly that she had not the faintest fucking clue what was supposed to happen now.

“I’ll, um - I’ll get you something to…” He was sitting up, and gesturing towards her stomach, but he wasn’t looking at her, and she felt a flash of panic. He was going to be all weird and stupid now, she could tell, and that was _not_ part of the plan.

“It’s fine - I have -” She reached across to her bedside table where she had a box of tissues, and hurriedly cleaned herself off as best she could. He was dressing quickly, with his back to her, and try as she might to keep it clamped down, her panic was growing, she had to do something -

She couldn’t accomplish anything in her current state of undress, that was for sure. She grabbed her pajama shirt off the floor and threw it over her head. She could see him rubbing the back of his neck, and the tips of his ears were red, and Gods he was an idiot but she _cared_ about him, and she was not going to let him wreck everything -

“Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Gods, if he was an idiot, she didn’t know what the hell that made her. This was her great idea? She cursed herself internally and ran a hand through her hair - she really needed a shower, actually.

He turned to look at her though, at least, and - was that a smile? It was quick as a flash; she might have imagined it. She wasn’t imagining the relief on his face, though, of that she was sure, and then he was nodding, and agreeing in fifteen words instead of one, and - 

He wasn’t the only one who was relieved.

She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, and she couldn’t help the smile that she knew was blazing across her face. See? A good plan. Things didn’t have to be weird, they’d only be weird if they _made_ them weird - and she had absolutely no time for that in her life right now, thank you.

**

They sprawled out on the couch in the living room, and he picked some movie or other (she was pretty sure it was about cars, maybe) and could she really be blamed if she wanted to touch him all the time now?

She draped her legs over his, and he didn’t say anything (she did, though, catch him shooting her some of those side glances that he clearly still thought were subtle). She mentally shrugged - he had touched parts of her that were a lot more intimate, in ways that were _certainly_ a lot more intimate, so there was no need for him to act like her bare calves were something extremely scandalous. 

Until - okay, he did run his fingers up and down them, lightly, partway into the movie, and from the way her heartbeat accelerated and her pulse seemed to be primarily localized between her legs maybe her calves _were_ actually scandalous after all, and she should put them away -

That would be admitting defeat, though, and she would never do that.

She did her best to act completely unaffected, and the movie carried on, and if somebody asked her to save her family’s life what it was about she wouldn’t have had the slightest clue.

It must have been drawing to a close, though, when Hot Pie came home. He eyed them suspiciously, and she pulled her legs back as heat crept up her face and she tried to look innocent. Why was she _always_ trying (and failing) to look innocent when he stumbled upon her with Gendry?

Hot Pie seemed to be wanting to have one of his stupid silent chats with Gendry who, for once, was not on board. She watched Hot Pie try to catch his eye while he busied himself stretching, and clearing his throat, and running a hand through his hair, and - honestly, it was a bit comical. She thought Hot Pie might have to resort to words and speak to Gendry like a normal human, but it would seem that was not an option. He chose instead to sigh heavily before giving up entirely and stomping to his room, shaking his head to himself as he went.

She bit back a laugh, and caught Gendry’s eye - they were crinkled, a bit, around the corners, and she felt warmth creep through her. She bid him goodnight (honestly, she did not give two shits about this movie and whether it was done or not, it’s not like she had been watching it anyway) and for the first time in what felt like forever, she lay down to rest feeling… good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the chapter count has increased because apparently practicing takes up a lot more time than I thought (for instance this afternooner that was supposed to be HALF A CHAPTER took up almost two full ones, my bad)  
> Thank you once again to anybody that is reading, especially if you leave a kudos and ESPECIALLY x 10 if you leave a comment because my brain is mean to me and your lovely words counteract that <3  
> If you want to watch me not know how to post or use tumblr at all I am now on there as kelleesioverhere


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry goes out for the day  
> That's it, that's the chapter

She rose on Sunday morning to the delicious smell of bacon wafting through the house, and _Gods_ , she couldn’t believe she had ever been mad at Hot Pie when he was actually an angel sent directly from the heavens.

She couldn’t hide from him forever, anyway, so if she had to bite the bullet and go in there and act like everything was normal and he had _not_ seen her and Gendry… doing whatever, she might as well do it now, when she would be fed.

She steeled herself, took a deep, calming breath, and made to wander into the kitchen as if she had not a care in the world, and nothing was different today than it ever had been, on any other day, ever.

She found Hot Pie cooking up not only bacon, but also pancakes, and her mouth watered, and honestly, this would be totally worth any awkwardness they had to go through to get back to normal.

She’d thought, perhaps (okay, hoped a little) that Gendry might be here too - he did love bacon, after all, and he usually got up before her. So. It would make sense.

Unfortunately, a quick sweep of the area left her with the unsatisfying conclusion that he was nowhere to be found. His coat was gone, too -

“Gendry’s not here.”

She blinked up at Hot Pie innocently, to find him examining her with his arms crossed (still holding his spatula, though, Gods forbid he let it out of his fist for one second).

She willed herself to keep silent. She chewed the inside of her lip. She was pretty sure her and Hot Pie were having a contest, and she wasn’t clear on what the exact rules were, but she must defeat him -

“Where’d he go?”

Fuck.

The _least_ she could do to try to obtain victory was keep quiet. Was that really so hard?

Hot Pie’s eyebrows raised at this, and she didn’t like the way he was looking at her - like this loss was beneath her, and he couldn’t even believe it had happened. Well, neither could she. He got over it though, and shrugged, and turned back to flip his pancakes.

“Didn’t say. Said he wouldn’t be back ‘til late, though.”

Late? But it was still morning!

She tried, really, to stop the rush of disappointment that filled her at this news - she thought, maybe, dedicated student that she was, that she could learn a few new things from him today. She chewed on her lip as she considered this setback. Well - it’s not like she didn’t have anything else to do. She had filled almost every single day before ‘The Incident’ with activities that did not involve Gendry - surely she could carry on in that same vein without too much difficulty.

He certainly could, apparently.

Hot Pie, her saviour, set down a plate for her with crispy bacon, and two perfect pancakes, and it was almost enough to rid her of the last vestiges of her disappointment. Almost. He sat down with a plate of his own, and she was pleased, overall, with how this was going. They could just continue to eat in companionable silence, as friends do. Totally normal.

But he was kind of... still... assessing her. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, honestly, as he shovelled pancakes into his mouth and never let his eyes leave her face because Gods forbid he somehow miss a scene in the cinematic film that was ‘Arya eats her breakfast’.

She couldn’t handle this at all, actually.

“Gods, _what?_ ”

She startled him, and he began to cough as he inhaled his most recent bite, and he flapped his arms around a bit. All she could do was sigh. Was she a choking hazard? Why did this keep happening? Should she come with a warning label?

He cleared his throat, and she was worried he would go right back to staring at her and she’d have to just leave and these pancakes would go to waste -

“So. You and Gendry.”

Gods, he was _such_ a gossip. What kind of gory details was he after, exactly? He hadn’t even asked a proper question. 

She shook her head resignedly, and figured she might as well indulge him. He had been forced to witness ‘her and Gendry’, head-on, so they had kind of _made_ it into his business, a little bit.

“Fine. What’s your question?”

He considered it carefully, cocking his head to one side and taking another, more careful, bite of his pancakes.

“Is he a good kisser? He seems like he would be.”

That was his question? Really? She didn’t know why she was surprised - Hot Pie was always doing weird shit. She felt heat creep up her face as she imagined Gendry’s lips on hers, and his tongue in her mouth, and on her neck, and on her chest -

Her face was on fire. She figured that was probably answer enough, and chose to merely shrug. 

“Ha! I knew it.” This seemed to please him immensely, although she was still trying to piece together why he was so emotionally invested in Gendry’s… abilities.

“And you’re…” He hesitated. Okay, this was what he _really_ wanted to know. He was just trying to loosen her up before. “You’re sure you’re on the same page with everything?”

 _Not at all_.

He was looking at her all wide-eyed and earnest now, and… okay. She knew what this was. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It’s not that his worry for her emotional wellbeing was a bad thing, really, it was quite sweet, but _of course_ he would assume that she couldn’t handle something casual. She was a delicate flower, she would fall in love with Gendry, blah blah blah. She assumed Hot Pie didn’t feel the need to sit Gendry down and ensure _he_ knew what he was doing, and that he wasn’t going to lose his head and fall apart over the depth of the feelings he was sure to develop for her -

It was fine, though, really. She could most definitely do casual. She already had been, successfully, for like 36 whole hours, and nothing bad had happened. 

“It’s a good arrangement for both of us, Hot Pie, I promise.” He still looked dubious, and she didn’t know why that bothered her but she felt like she needed to convince him. He really didn’t have to worry. No one did.

“I know exactly where he stands, and we’re both happy with the way things are.” 

This, at least, got a reaction out of him - even if it meant he went from concerned to completely perplexed. His eyebrows were up by his hairline, and he was blinking rapidly, and his mouth was even open (and no, he was _not_ finished chewing). What had she said that was so baffling?

“You - really? He told you?”

Oh Gods, what kinds of conversations was Hot Pie having? This was not something that was _talked_ about, she just _knew_ \- because, for the most part, it was obvious. What they were doing wasn’t anything ‘serious’. Sure, sometimes Gendry looked at her all soft, and sometimes he smiled a little crooked smile at her, but - he had already _done_ those things. They had nothing to do with her plan. Nothing was different for him.

“He didn’t _have_ to tell me, Hot Pie, I’m not an idiot.” Her skin crawled just thinking of having to have that conversation, of him feeling like he needed to spell it out for her - Gods, that would be painful. It was a good thing, really, that they didn’t talk about it. They were both sparing each other from all of this unnecessary discomfort.

For whatever reason, Hot Pie was now hooting with amusement, and actually hammered his fist down onto the counter in his excitement.

“You’re right, he is _so_ obvious,” he exclaimed happily. She wasn’t sure why Gendry being obviously a 'casual encounters only' kind of guy brought Hot Pie so much joy, but hey. Who was she to burst his bubble? Regardless - it would seem that she had ultimately found a way to reassure him. He seemed quite content now, actually, and even went so far as to allow a subject change. The remainder of their breakfast together was really quite enjoyable, and she was relieved to have gotten this uncomfortable obstacle out of the way. At this rate, she wouldn’t even have to do _any_ perimeter checks anymore, as she was on pleasant terms with both of her roommates for the first time since… well, last year, really. She couldn’t help but smile.

He reminded her, as she helped him wash up, of the family dinner to be held in her honour on Friday (as if she would forget - she _loved_ when things were hosted ‘in her honour’ by Hot Pie. It meant she was in charge of who got to come and what she got to eat). Saturday was her birthday, one of the greatest of all 365 days of the year, and while she was looking forward to it, she was also, a little bit… not.

Not to be dramatic, or anything, but this was the first year she would not be home in Winterfell, sleeping in and having breakfast in bed, and celebrating with a big, loud dinner with her brothers (some of them, at least), and it wasn’t like it was a problem, it was just… different. And it was really sweet of Hot Pie to put this together. And Sansa was coming, and Gendry would be there, and… maybe it could be a nice, new tradition. She was startled out of her musings to notice Hot Pie had finished his tasks but was still standing there a bit awkwardly - did he need something?

He looked anxious.

“Do you mind, if Maggie comes? She can bake something! Whatever you want! I know it’s your dinner, and all, but I always talk about you guys, and she’d love to meet you -”

“Of course it’s fine, Hot Pie,” she cut him off before he ran out of air. Relief flooded his features (had he really been that concerned that she would say no?) and then a dreamy look took over his face.

“She’ll be so happy,” he breathed out, and Gods, was love always this cringey? He turned abruptly to the door, and pulled his coat on. 

“I’m going to go see her right now, actually,” he exclaimed. “What a fortunate coincidence. Don’t... expect me back tonight.”

Was he puffing his chest out? Legitimately? Why were boys like this? She didn’t dignify his behaviour with a response.

“Because… you know… I’m going to be -”

“Gods, Hot Pie, I got it -”

“Okay, well, you didn’t say anything -”

She threw a dish towel at him and he scurried out the door, whooping with glee. 

She sighed. Well, that just left her, then. She pursed her lips and tapped her fingers against the countertop. It was extremely inconvenient that Gendry had not read her mind and deduced what she had planned for today and worked his schedule around it. _Now_ what was she supposed to do?

She _should_ study, really. That’s what a responsible adult would do - especially after the recent distractions she’d been having. She should probably go to the campus library, though, because -

Not because there was a chance Gendry was there, when there was _no_ chance that he was here. That was technically true, but it held no bearing on her decision-making. She just felt like… the library was the place to be right now. That’s all.

**

He wasn’t there. She was absolutely certain, because she wandered up and down every aisle, and past every table, on every floor (not looking for him, obviously, just trying to make sure she found the best spot. She had to make an informed decision about where she would set up camp for the day). 

When she did finally find her perfect spot (good lighting, passably comfortable chair, nobody nearby that she would have to listen to as they breathed, or worse, chewed), she opened her textbook to her required reading for the week, and was ready to -

Okay, but really, where the hell was he?

She huffed to herself in frustration. She supposed, despite living with him, she didn’t _really_ know how he spent a lot of his time - not that it was any of her business, anyway. And he _was_ home a lot. But he - her stomach lurched uncomfortably when she remembered ‘The Incident’. He must go places. He had to have found that girl _somewhere_. Was that where he -

She cut herself off from this train of thought. She was not interested in spending her day running through endless possible scenarios about what he was doing - she didn’t want to know, anyway. He could do whatever he wanted, and go wherever he liked. She buried herself in the text, and refused to waste one more moment on these musings.

**

By the time she came home, she actually felt a lot better. She had accomplished quite a bit, and once she got into a groove, the time flew by. She was starving though - she made a beeline for the fridge, excitedly searching for whatever Hot Pie had left behind, and found… nothing. Okay. Well, that was a definite downside to him spending all of his time out of the house with his new lady love. She made herself a sandwich, and flopped down on the couch to watch a movie.

And okay, yes, normally, if she was alone, she would just watch a movie in her room, but -

It’s not like she was waiting for him, or anything. But if he happened to come home, he would have to walk right past, and then -

Well, she didn’t know what then, but it was a start, at least.

Maybe he’d sit down beside her, closer than usual, and not say a word, but run his hand up and down her leg. Or maybe he would be more forceful, and pull her into his lap and grab her hips and kiss her roughly - 

_Or maybe he won’t do anything at all._

She chewed her lip. She didn’t like that option, much.

The scenes flitted by, and then the credits rolled, and - he hadn't walked past. She glanced at her phone; it was barely 9 o’clock, it’s not like it was _that_ late, but - she gave her plan up for a lost cause.

She trudged to her room, and flicked on her lamp, and - Gods, she wasn’t sure if she would ever look at her bed the same way again. She put on her pajama shirt, and tried not to think of the fact that yesterday he’d been in here, in her bed, and he’d -

She felt a jolt run through her as she remembered the feel of his slightly roughened fingers on her nipple, and his smooth length in her hand, and the sounds he’d made when -

Gods dammit.

How was she back here again, alone in her room, picturing him and _aching_? Wasn’t her plan supposed to _help_ with this? It was almost worse now. Because before she had been imagining, wondering, dreaming of what his hands and mouth and cock would feel like, and now - now she _knew_. And she wanted him that much more.

She didn’t bother fighting it - she knew, by now, that if she didn’t find a release she would never be able to sleep, and… she had so much to think about, anyway.

She reclined on her bed, and closed her eyes. Maybe, if she really tried, she could pretend he was here with her, just like yesterday. 

It would be his fingers ghosting up her inner thigh, higher and higher, and then running gently over her entrance - back and forth, teasing, and he would find her wet for him already and he would curse but he would _like_ it -

She brushed her nipple through the fabric of her tshirt and bit back a whine, and - fuck it, really, nobody was _here_ , that was the whole reason she was in this situation, so what the hell was she holding back for?

She dipped a finger shallowly into her folds, and wet it with her juices before she dragged it slowly up, and rubbed a small, tight circle into her clit. She let out a ragged moan, and pinched her nipple, wishing it was his teeth and tongue working at it instead. Even the memory of it was enough to set her on fire, and she whimpered as she frantically shifted her hand down again and teased her slit, running her fingers up and down but never _in_ , not yet -

She pictured it was his cock, instead, and he was teasing her with the silky tip, rubbing against her maddeningly and feeling the slickness of her arousal coating him. _Gods_ , she wanted that, and she wanted it to make him just as crazy as it made her, until he couldn’t resist anymore and sunk into her - she finally plunged her fingers inside, and she let out a desperate cry -

She almost jumped out of her skin when her phone buzzed beside her on the bed. 

_Not now_ -

She glanced down anyway, heart hammering, and saw -

 **Gendry** : You wanting any help with that or

She immediately ceased her actions, and she was pretty sure her stomach had dropped out of her body. What - but - when the hell did he get home? She felt a prickly heat sweep over her as she realized she hadn’t even fully closed her _door_ \- she really was operating under the assumption that she was 100% alone, and why the hell would she _ever_ do that when she lived with two other people? How had she not heard him? Had she been that bloody distracted? Well she couldn’t hear anything, now, except her heart thudding in her ears, and - this was humiliating.

She thought back to several nights before, when she had thought he might have heard her - she hadn’t been so bothered then, so what was the difference? She chewed on her lip and tried to steady her breathing. It wasn’t the same - she knew, that time, that he was there, and she knew he was riled up too, and it was a little bit on purpose, whereas this -

This was not part of the plan.

 _It could be, though_.

Shit. She had to make some kind of decision here - on the one hand, she wanted to delete his text (maybe his number, too, for good measure) and then she could forget this ever happened and then she wouldn’t need to feel embarrassed about it anymore. But also...

He _could_ help her.

He _was_ offering, and wasn’t that kind of nice of him, really? The only reason she was even doing this at all was because he hadn’t been _home_ \- it’s not like she would rather take care of this on her own if he was an available and willing option.

She couldn’t exactly pretend, either, that she hadn’t been thinking of him, and how he had made her feel, and why the hell should she settle for the memory of something when she could have the real thing?!

She grabbed her phone and tried to calm her slightly shaking hands. Her heart pounded.

 **Arya:** yes

She hit send and threw it down before she could change her mind. She swallowed hard, and her heart was thudding almost painfully in her chest, and - what now?

He was serious, right?

She chewed on her lip and pulled her knees up to her chest - was he going to come in here? Actually? Or was she supposed to go there - maybe he was waiting for her, and she was waiting for him, and neither of them would go anywhere because they were both giant idiots, or, _worst_ of all, maybe the whole thing _was_ a joke and it was just her who was a complete moron - 

“Hey.”

She felt like her heart had actually stopped beating, because there he was. She almost jumped out of her skin, and she didn’t know why she was so shocked to see him (had she not just basically told him to come in here?) but she looked over at him with wide eyes. 

Did he have to look so fucking _good_ all the time?

He was dressed only in a pair of grey sweats, and she took a moment to appreciate the muscles of his back as he turned to close her door behind him.

And then he was facing her again, with his arms crossed against his chest, and didn’t he know she couldn’t think properly when he did that? She let her eyes rake over him appreciatively, and her heart promptly resumed it's pounding when she realized that she could _see_ the bulge of his cock through his sweats, and - he was probably hard, then, right? She was pretty sure. If he wasn’t, she didn’t think it would be quite so prominent, but honestly, what the hell did she know?

He tilted his head slightly and his eyes were narrowed at her and somehow with the way he was looking at her she _felt_ like she was laid bare before him even though she very clearly wasn’t - how did he do that?

“What’ve you been up to in here?” He asked in a low voice, like he didn’t already know very well. He was insufferable. But Gods, if his asking about it didn’t send bolts of arousal through her - her pussy throbbed, reminding her that she had some very unfinished business that needed to be tended to.

She shrugged and pursed her lips. 

“Just… reminiscing.” 

He let out what she was pretty sure was just a huff of air through his nose, and what was he, an animal? And then he was stalking towards her, and… he did seem like an animal, actually, and she was his prey, and _why_ did that have to exhilarate her so damn much?

He sat on the bed, facing her, and his eyes glittered darkly, and she couldn’t _breathe_ , and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears, and she _needed_ him -

“Show me,” he rasped. She gaped at him, even as she felt herself flush at how much his statement affected her (all the while trying _not_ to acknowledge how powerful the rush of arousal that came over her was) - it didn’t matter, because she couldn’t do that.

Right?

Why did she even want to? Because, try as she might, she couldn’t deny her body’s response - she felt as if her walls were fluttering in anticipation and like she would need to physically restrain herself from reaching down to try to soothe the ache between her legs while he _watched_ her -

And she _couldn’t._

But… the way he was looking at her, right now, with his eyes dark and wild and his lips parted, (and his breathing uneven, already) - she didn’t think she had ever felt so wanted.

And if she wanted this, and he wanted this, then why the _fuck_ not? Maybe this wasn’t such a hard decision, after all. She felt a delicious thrill of anticipation run through her.

She leaned back a bit, until she was resting against her pillows, and she spread her legs just slightly, and snaked her left hand up past the hem of her shirt - and then she stopped, and raised a brow at him.

“You too,” she breathed, because fair’s fair, and besides - she knew he would. She knew, from the look in his eye, that he would do _anything_ she asked of him if it meant he could have this, and the thought sent waves of heat crashing over her. She felt a bit drunk, honestly. 

She didn’t need to tell him twice - he was kneeling between her legs before she knew it, and he pulled himself free and ran his hand down his length in one long, languid stroke, not taking his eyes off where her hand had started to disappear up under her shirt. She thought back to approximately one minute ago, when she was wondering if he was even hard (the answer was a profound and resounding _yes_ ) - things had sure escalated quickly here. She figured, if he wanted her to show him something, he better be able to see the whole damn show - she pulled her oversize shirt off, and spread her legs wide for him, and she _knew_ she was just on full display and she never would have expected something like that to do this to her. 

She sincerely hoped that he wouldn’t last long, because she had never felt like this, and she was pretty sure with one light brush of her clit she would be done for, and she couldn’t let him beat her -

She ran her hand over her slit and hissed in pleasure. Everything she did had increased in intensity a hundredfold by having him here, watching her - she could barely think straight.

She slid two fingers inside herself easily, and pumped them in and out almost lazily. She had to keep it slow, and controlled, or this would all be over in seconds. She resisted the urge to throw her head back and let her eyes flutter shut - she wanted to watch him, too. She grasped her breast in her other hand, and idly twirled her nipple between her fingers, and she bit her lip to keep from letting out a wanton moan at the sensation combined with the look he was giving her -

He wouldn’t last, there was no way, she could tell from his breathing, and the slight crease between his brows, and the way he was starting to mutter out a stream of curses she could barely hear.

Gods, she wanted him to come, she needed it, she couldn’t wait any longer - without her consent, her fingers were speeding up, and she was rocking her hips in time with them, and her fingers on her nipple were getting more demanding -

And she was so distracted, watching him watch her, that she forgot he had two hands, and all of a sudden his other thumb was on her clit, and she didn’t expect it -

She choked out a cry, and she was clenching around her fingers, and she hadn’t been _ready_ but _fuck_ \- she must have closed her eyes, after all, because she felt it, all over her tits, when he fell off the edge just seconds after she did.

He was such a fucking _cheater_.

He did it on purpose, she was certain, he _knew_ she would finish if he - she realized, belatedly, what an absurd train of thought this was. She was basically mentally berating him for - what, exactly? Making her come harder than she ever had? That… well, that made no sense. She should probably be a bit more appreciative.

She let out a breathless chuckle, and she was still twitching a bit, involuntarily, underneath him, and she wasn’t sure if she had ever felt so good.

He pulled his thumb away, and she actually whined, and then he was the one who was chuckling, and - she felt very warm.

She wondered, briefly, where this fit on her educational spectrum - she hadn’t anticipated an encounter like this. And even though he had touched her less, and she touched him not at all, and they hadn’t even kissed - this seemed much more intimate, somehow, than anything from before.

The thought filled her stomach with an unusual sensation. She had best not think about this anymore.

“Thanks for your help,” she said instead, and couldn’t stop the satisfied smile that was fighting it’s way onto her face.

“And some people say chivalry is dead,” he responded dryly. Okay, yes, she had just thanked him, but she didn’t think coming in here and telling her to touch herself in front of him and then jacking off on her tits could be categorized as chivalrous. She couldn’t help the snort that burst out of her, and then she was shoving him over and she could hear him snickering beside her and - he was _such_ an idiot.

She fought to control the giggles that were threatening to burst out of her, and took a few steadying breaths. She felt him do the same, and then a silence descended over them, and she had a brief second to wonder, once again, what was supposed to happen next.

And then he was reaching over her to grab a couple of tissues, and she couldn’t help the tender feeling that spread through her as he carefully cleaned her up. Once he was finished, he kissed her on the forehead, gently, and it was such a contrast from how he had seemed just a short time ago when he came in here wild and hungry and - her stomach did that uncomfortable twinge again.

“Goodnight, Arya,” he whispered, and it seemed like - was he hesitating? She wondered if he would say anything else, or if _she_ should (the idiotic thought crossed her mind that she could ask him to stay, and he would, and he could hold her through the night and she would wake up beside him and -) -

_Stupid._

She couldn’t get confused - he was helping her out, like she had asked him to, and just because he laughed with her after and kissed her head didn’t make it any different for him.

She had to remember that.

He slipped out of her room, and she ignored the third uncomfortable flip her stomach did that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She didn't even LOOK when she got back and he was already HOME (I've decided he was in his room, being studious, doing engineering things)
> 
> I remember thinking last week "oh my, they're kissing, this sweet story of mine sure is getting spicy" and now here I am like... hope you like porn  
> I don't know how this happened and I take no responsibility, that's all
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and leaving kudos and comments, I am a positive reinforcement type of gal <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya has a bday!

The rest of the week, quite frankly, kicked her ass. She got a very harsh reminder that she was actually a student, which required her to take classes, and study for tests, and complete assignments, and - honestly, it was hugely disruptive to her _other_ educational needs. With Gendry. Who was also a student, with classes, and responsibilities, and -

Ugh. She barely saw him.

He must have been around, she was sure - but somehow, their paths didn’t cross. As soon as she had a free moment to herself, he would be running out the door, or, worse, not there at all. 

There were a few nights where she thought she could study, nonchalantly, at the kitchen counter, until… well, whenever he got home, but…

She got frustrated, when it got later and later, and he wasn’t back, and then her traitorous brain would go to a very dark place imagining scenarios about _why_ he wasn’t back, and where he actually was, and what he was doing - and then she got nothing done.

It also made her feel like she was being squeezed around the chest by a boa constrictor, and she didn’t really want to think about why that might be. So.

By Wednesday night, she had given up on that plan. She didn’t need to see him all the time anyway - she had her own life. She was a busy gal. And besides, she knew she would see him Friday, it was her birthday dinner and he wouldn’t miss that (right?).

She was a big enough person, though, to admit that she missed him. Not just the... new parts (although, quite frankly, she was missing those too), but just spending time with him in general. He made her smile, and he made her laugh, and she felt like things weren’t all the way right when she didn’t get to see him.

She wondered if he thought the same things about her - and then she quickly stopped that train of thought. She knew where he stood, and there was no use wasting time imagining that he thought stupid things about her (it wouldn’t change anything, anyway, so what the hell was the point?).

By the time Friday rolled around, she could hardly sit still through her last lecture of the day. She wanted to get home, and she wanted everyone to come over, and she wanted to _celebrate_ \- she felt, a little bit, like a ball of nervous energy, but in a good way. Kind of. Actually, maybe in just a nervous way.

But that was stupid.

There was no reason to be nervous - this wouldn’t be different than any other night when she and Gendry and Hot Pie had dinner. The only changes would be Sansa and Maggie coming - so really, if anyone should be nervous, it should be Hot Pie. She assumed it must be nerve-wracking for him. She couldn’t be selfish and steal his jitters. That was just rude. Regardless - the second the class was dismissed, she was up out of her seat and rushing home as if she had just remembered she left the stove on.

Hot Pie was already preparing everything when she got there - he really was a wonderful party host. They were having roast beef, and it smelled amazing, and she felt pretty classy having a roast, and - did he not also have classes to take? How did he have time for this? She couldn’t focus on that right now (and besides, it was making for a really delicious meal for her, so she should honestly just mind her own business). She rushed past him to her room.

She got changed into a simple black dress, and she put on a necklace, and she even tried her best to style her hair, ignoring, the whole time, the little voice in her head that said she was being _stupid, stupid, stupid._

She didn’t have time for any of that negativity. She did wish, though, that her heart rate would go back to normal - because _why_ was she even nervous?

She looked herself over in her full-length mirror one final time, rolled her eyes at herself, and figured this would have to do. 

She ventured out into the kitchen, where Hot Pie greeted her with a booming ‘happy birthday’, and a bone-crushing hug and he ruffled her hair - could he not see that she had just spent six whole minutes trying to style it?

She appreciated his enthusiasm though. It helped to calm her down, a bit - or, at the very least, distract her.

She couldn’t wait for everyone to arrive. Then she would have something to do. Something to do with her hands, people to talk to, something to think about other than the fact that she hadn’t seen Gendry since Sunday and when she had, they’d -

She couldn’t think about that right now.

Her stomach felt all fluttery for no reason at all and… 

What the hell was wrong with her?

She drummed her fingers on the countertop. Hot Pie glanced over at her, but kindly chose to pretend he didn’t notice the tension radiating off of her.

She sighed.

She kicked her legs back and forth beneath her chair.

“When’s Maggie getting here?”

She had to say something, she had to talk, she couldn’t just sit here watching the minutes tick by feeling like hours -

“Should be here in about an hour,” he exclaimed cheerfully.

An hour?!

What about Sansa?

Was nobody really going to come for another whole.. She looked at the clock. Fifty-nine minutes? What the hell was she supposed to do with herself until then?

This would not do. She couldn’t go through the rest of her life like this (let’s be real - she couldn’t even get through the rest of the _night_ like this). She made a decision.

This was her birthday, and her house, and it was a _celebration_ \- a celebration of her, really, and her ability to have survived for another entire calendar year.

She hopped off the stool and decided she had best fix herself a stiff drink (okay, stiff was probably the wrong word. As much as she liked to consider herself a mature adult, her drinking habits were… decidedly not so). She poured herself some coke with some birthday cake flavoured vodka (because, when in Rome, as they say). This should do the trick. She made her way back to her stool, and sipped at it nervously. 

Where was Gendry?

He _was_ coming, right?

Because he wasn’t here, still, and it was almost time, and -

There was no way he would miss it.

He couldn’t.

Even before… any of this started, he was her _friend_ , and besides. He lived here. He had to come back at some point.

She kept drinking - primarily to keep her mouth occupied. If it was full, she couldn’t give in and ask Hot Pie if he knew where Gendry was (or where he’d _been_ , all week, really).

She was getting to the bottom of her glass, though, and it was probably too soon, to have another, but she wasn’t exactly feeling all that relaxed yet, so she might have to make an exception -

And then Gendry burst through the door, looking like he’d been in a mighty hurry. He was rambling to Hot Pie about something taking too long, and Gods he looked flustered, and then he caught her eye, as she sat there swinging her legs back and forth, and he fell silent.

Her stomach flipped.

He muttered something about needing to take a shower, and his eyes never left hers, and she had the absurd thought that she should just go with him - she hadn’t seen him in _ages_ , okay, and he looked really good, and soon he would be naked and wet and glistening -

She tried to shake these unhelpful thoughts.

She had already spent the aforementioned six full minutes trying to style her hair, and she had gotten dressed and everything, it made absolutely zero sense for her to go hop in a shower with him.

Also, he hadn’t exactly asked her to come, so. There was that.

He ambled down the hall, and she finally felt like she could breathe again. Okay. See, there was no reason to be nervous. It was totally fine to see him. Yes, he froze up and seemed like he forgot how to speak as soon as he saw her, but… honestly, he was always doing dumb shit like that. This was not any different.

She needed another drink.

By the time Sansa arrived, she had finished her second birthday cocktail, and was industriously making her way through her third. She felt a little bit flushed, but hopefully nobody else would notice.

She had a feeling Sansa noticed, actually - Sansa noticed everything. This was going to be a long night - why was she ever looking forward to this, again? She finished her third drink.

Everything actually… seemed to blend together a bit after that. Maggie came, and she brought some kind of cheesecake, and she looked at Hot Pie like he hung the moon, and, okay, they were definitely keeping her. Gendry sat beside her, and she remembered, vaguely, that she had been nervous earlier, but she couldn’t remember _why_ , now. 

And they sang happy birthday to her, and Sansa had knit her a scarf and honestly it really was so pretty, and Hot Pie had presented her with a basket of her favourite snacks, and even Maggie brought her a gift (she thought the cheesecake was the gift? This girl was _awesome_ ). She opened them all happily, and hugged all her lovely friends, and sat down contentedly.

Everyone kept looking at Gendry, and okay, she wasn’t trying to be _vain_ but it was _her_ party, shouldn’t they be looking at her? She pouted a bit, and - oh - they were saying something, Maggie asked a question, and Gendry went all red - had she missed something?

He was rubbing his neck, and saying he did get her something, and he would give it to her later, _alone_ -

Oh.

She flushed from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair, and Sansa was _definitely_ looking at her (if she just didn’t look back, she figured she would have to stop) and she was trying to focus but - she was only thinking of Gendry, and his gift, and she could definitely think of one or two things he could give to her (or do for her) that would not be appropriate for presentation at this table -

She thought it was probably time for this lovely night to come to a conclusion.

Things were really going her way, for once, because before she even knew what had happened, Hot Pie was announcing he would take Maggie home, and Sansa was taking her leave (she was doing that thing again where she tried to share a bunch of meaningful glances - Arya wasn’t sure what she was trying to convey, but she just smiled back bemusedly). And she loved celebrations, she did, and she was so happy they had all been here, but right now… She was ready for them to go. The door had barely shut behind them before had leaned into Gendry’s shoulder - so much warmth was coursing through her.

“Come on,” she whispered breathlessly in his ear. She stood up quickly - too quickly. She almost toppled over, but he grabbed her arms to steady her and she sunk into his chest instead. It was so warm. And kind of soft, but also hard. He was so handsome. She sighed happily. What was she doing, again?

Oh, right.

She had to collect her ‘present’. Her private present, that could not be given in front of anyone else - she couldn’t wait. She had told him she wasn’t ready to have sex, but that was _before_. She was ready now. He must have known she would be - it was so good of him to plan ahead like this. She wrapped her arms around his midsection, and mumbled into his sternum.

“Let’s _go._ ”

She turned in his arms, and tried to walk them both in the direction of her bedroom. He was kind of like her backpack, holding her like this, and that wasn’t necessarily particularly sexy but she didn’t really mind. She liked having him back there.

“Where are you taking me, m’lady?” He chuckled behind her, and she could feel his breath behind her ear - it made her shiver. He was so cute, trying to keep it a surprise, pretending he didn’t know what was going on. 

She pushed open her bedroom door and they stumbled in. She turned back to face him, and pulled him down to capture his lips with hers. Her head swam. Kissing him made her dizzy. She couldn’t _wait_ to have him. She tugged his shirt up as far as she could reach - he would have to pull it off the rest of the way. Why weren’t her arms longer? He broke away from her and finished her task, tossing his shirt to the side.

“Arya -”

She didn’t feel like talking, just now. She brought her lips back to his, and she felt tingly and breathless and _warm_ and - she walked them back towards her bed, before breaking away to turn again so _his_ back was to the bed. She took a second to re-orient herself - she was doing a lot of turning. She felt a little bit unsteady, but in a giddy, exciting way.

She pushed him onto the bed and clambered over him, settling herself straddled across his hips. She leaned down to kiss him, breathlessly, recklessly, and she couldn’t decide where to put her hands but she didn’t care as long as she was touching him -

“Arya, wait - slow down -”

She didn’t want to slow down. 

“But you have to give me my present,” she pouted at him. He just blinked at her.

“I will, I just - I don’t have it with me, I have to pick it up tomorrow -” He broke off and his breath hitched as she rolled her hips purposefully over his. She let out a soft chuckle. He was being _so_ silly right now. Didn’t have it with him… He literally _always_ had it with him. She could feel it, right now. Did he really think she would fall for this? Maybe he was a bit nervous. Maybe, now that the time was here, he was worried she wouldn’t appreciate it. She’d have to make sure he knew how she felt about it.

She rolled her hips over his again, and she let out a little sigh and let her eyes flutter shut at the delicious friction she felt, even with so many layers between them.

“But I want it,” she whispered, and really, she expected that to be enough, but he didn’t seem to be doing anything -

She brought her gaze to his and found him staring at her with eyes as wide as saucers, and his mouth was gaping open a bit - Gods, it’s like he had no idea about his own gift, did he hit his head or something? She frowned a bit.

“Arya, I’m not - your gift is not my _cock_ \- Gods - I actually have something for you,” he spluttered.

Oh. Well. His whole ‘I don’t have it with me’ comment did make a lot more sense now. And it was _so nice_ of him to get her something. He didn’t have to do that. She wanted to thank him. Mostly, she wanted to have sex with him.

She felt like her smile was going to break her face in half, it was so big. She giggled excitedly and leaned down to kiss him.

“That was so, so nice of you,” she sighed. He looked a bit amused, now, and his eyes were crinkled at the corners when he reached up to brush her hair out of her face. Gods, he was so gentle, and patient, and pretty, and she felt like they had both waited quite long enough. 

She reached down and pulled her dress up and off of her (only getting a little bit stuck on her head and tangled in her arms - it probably looked more graceful than it felt). She knew dresses had a purpose. They could really be so practical. 

“Arya -”

He was not nearly at her level of efficiency - he still had his jeans on and everything. She fumbled with his button - was it backwards? Or inside out? Why wouldn’t it come undone? Suddenly she couldn’t move her hands at all - what was going on?!

Oh. He had grabbed them. Well, that was okay.

“Arya, wait.” 

She huffed at him and frowned. She was _done_ waiting. Had she not made that clear?

“I just - you’ve been drinking, and I don’t want… For your first time… I don’t want it to be like this,” he sounded pained, but he was looking up at her with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, and she heard a rushing in her ears, and maybe she lost her head a little bit -

“It’s not my first time.”

What?

It absolutely was her first time. She frowned a bit more. Had she just said that? Why did she do things like this? 

“What? It’s - yes, it is.”

Okay, she had backed herself into a bit of a corner here, but she could recover. She just had to find the right words.

“Well, it might not be. You don’t know.” And he _didn’t_ know. Only she knew, and _she_ said it wasn’t her first time. So. Wouldn’t she know better than him? She was pretty sure she wasn’t making any sense, but he looked so cute when he was confused. 

“Well, you never touched a cock ‘til a couple days ago. So...” Oh right. She forgot she told him that. She would have to do a better job of keeping her secrets in the future.

“We could have just skipped that step. And he just put it right in.” That could have happened, right? Why was she arguing this, again? Because that definitely had not happened. She couldn’t blame him for being confused. _She_ was confused. 

For once he was the one rolling his eyes at _her_.

“Okay, fine, maybe he could have done, but he didn’t,” he stated stubbornly. She narrowed her eyes at him. It didn’t matter that he was _right_ , he wasn’t making very good points. She was pretty sure she was still winning.

“How would you know?” She crossed her arms over her chest. His eyes followed the movement and he faltered - she had forgotten she’d removed her dress. Suddenly his hands were sprawled over his face.

“I just do.” His voice was muffled by his fingers. Well, that explanation certainly wasn’t going to cut it.

“How?” Was one of her legs falling asleep? Or falling off? She shifted a bit, and, no, it was definitely still attached, and more importantly, her movement definitely caused his cock to twitch beneath her. How interesting. He exhaled through his nose.

She did it again. His hands shot from his face to her hips, and she wasn’t sure if he meant to stop her from moving or guide her along - either way, his fingers digging into her shot a thrill through her. They felt so good on her skin.

“Because. You’re so - _fucking_ tight.” The sound of his voice, and the words he was saying, and his hands on body - her heart was racing. _This_ was what she wanted. She couldn’t really feel her face, either, but she didn’t want to let that get in her way. His eyes were scrunched shut. She wished he would look at her - she felt like, if he did, he would see that she was serious. She _wanted_ this.

She placed her hands on his chest and started drawing patterns into his skin. Maybe she was drawing spaghetti noodles, or a ball of yarn, or -

She remembered what he said, abruptly, and forgot about the shapes she was drawing. Who cared what they were? She couldn’t be getting distracted like this. She had to get back on track. She started drawing them lower down, and his breathing stuttered.

“That’d probably feel good for you, yeah?” It came out as barely more than a whisper, but she knew he heard her as his fingers dug in deeper and he panted out, “Fuck, Arya -”

“I’m trying to.” She almost giggled at her cleverness - that was a good play on words, was it not? But he startled her by letting go of her hips, and grabbing her by the back of her neck, and suddenly they were face to face and their foreheads were touching and his eyes were closed again but he had one hand tangled in her hair and her chest brushed against his -

“Gods, don’t tempt me. I’m trying to be a fucking gentleman, here.” His voice was almost a growl, and - was this supposed to be dissuading her? Because it was having the opposite effect. He couldn’t say things like that to her, and grab her like that, and make her feel so wanted and think this would help convince her that tonight was not the night. She opened her mouth to drop these facts on him, but he beat her to it and released her quickly, groaning, “And can you put something on - I can’t - think...like this.”

What did he need to think for? She felt like he was thinking entirely _too much_ actually. She rolled her eyes. 

He was being a little bit difficult.

She hopped off of him - she could definitely put something on, and then he would probably relax, and then she could try again. She stumbled a bit on her landing - was that where her floor had always been? She was expecting it to be higher. Or maybe lower.. Oh, well. 

There was no point putting her dress back on. She may as well get cozy. She undid her bra and began to slip it off before she heard a strangled noise coming from his direction.

“I said _on_ , put something _on_ -” Hadn’t he had his eyes closed, anyway? If he was going to make the decision to peek, he would have to suffer the consequences. It was his own fault. She just shrugged, and once her bra was off, she tossed it in his general direction. Well, she meant to. It may have ended up… nowhere near. It may be draped over her lamp.

Where was her pajama shirt? She squinted and swiveled her head from side to side - it was hiding. Oh, there - wait. No. That was his -

She shrugged again. It was better than nothing. She pulled it over her head, then peeled her panties off - she tripped a little, trying to balance, and get them off while standing up, but she managed. He was definitely still watching her - he had a stupid look on his face. She should tease him for it, probably. She meant to. But… then he might stop. She didn’t want him to ever stop looking at her like that. Not ever. She felt very warm.

She didn’t care that he was being stupid. He still made her feel so good.

She climbed back into the bed and flopped down beside him, throwing an arm and a leg over him and settling her head on his chest. She let out a contented little sigh.

“‘M not that drunk, you know. We can definitely still have sex.” It came out a little more slurred than she wanted - she was just very comfortable, and it was hard to focus on each and every _single_ syllable, okay? She could tell he was laughing from the rumbles in his chest - like a little baby earthquake.

He had his arm around her, and he ran it up and down her back, and - oh, that was actually very nice. 

“I’ll make you a deal, then.” 

She loved deals. They were kind of like contests. Sort of. She blinked up at him happily.

“If you’re still awake in fifteen minutes, we’ll have sex.”

Ha! She did it! She knew she would have him eventually. She couldn’t wait. Fifteen minutes was so soon! She closed her eyes, and he kept rubbing her back. As _if_ she wouldn’t stay awake. Not when the reward would be something like _that_. He kissed the top of her head. She liked when he did that, she decided. That was part of why he was the right choice for this. He would be good to her. He always was. And it would be _tonight_ , and she…

She…

Fell asleep.

**

Gods, she was having a good dream. She was so warm, and comfortable, and Gendry was in bed behind her, his breath puffing lightly down the back of her neck, sending a delightful tingle right down to her toes. That, in itself, would be quite nice, but he was also ghosting his hand up and down her thigh - and then higher, up under her shirt to the dip of her waist, before trailing it back down. The second time he did it, she felt a jolt of excitement as she realized his hands never left her skin during their whole journey - she must not have any knickers on. How deliciously convenient. She arched her back, trying to get the parts of her she most wanted touched closer to him. Her ass brushed against him, and her heart stuttered as she felt the thick hard length of him behind her, already straining against the fabric of his briefs. 

His hand that had been trailing up her side slid down over her ribs, and his fingers splayed out, and then he was pulling her back towards him so he was flush against her. She could feel him, hard and wanting, nestled between her cheeks, and the sensation had her heart racing as she felt a warmth spread low in her belly. He rocked his hips against her, just slightly, and his hand brushed the underside of her breast. She let out a shaky breath as she felt a now all-too-familiar throb between her legs. He ran the flat of his palm over her nipple, and she gasped as she felt it harden beneath him. Involuntarily, she shifted her hips against him - the ache in her core was growing stronger, demanding attention. He alternated between pinching and pulling at her nipple, and kneading her breast, and somehow no matter what he did or how many times he did it, the shocks of arousal running through her only grew stronger. He was rocking his hips against her ass, just gently, and kissing her behind her ear, and - she felt herself quivering. This was a _really_ good dream. Her hands were clenched into fists, and she was gripping her sheets, and she couldn’t stop the soft, pleading noises that were escaping her.

He finally stopped his sweet torment of her chest, and she tried to regain control of her breathing - but his hand was trailing lower, over the smooth skin of her stomach, and _down_ \- she could hardly wait. 

He ran his hand over her, and she inhaled sharply while she almost frantically spread her legs in an attempt to give him more room. He slipped a finger inside, and she bit back a moan - she’d been expecting him to tease her more, make her wait for it - but this was just as good. How was everything so, so good? He was pressing himself more insistently against her ass, and she could hear him trying (and failing) to keep his breathing steady. He was thrusting his finger inside her, and each time he did the heel of his palm pressed against her clit, and she couldn’t help but arch her back and then her ass would rub against his hardness and his breath would hitch and -

He slipped a second finger in, and it was too much, but somehow not nearly enough, and just _needed_ him -

“ _Please,_ Gendry,” she whispered, and she didn’t care in the slightest if she sounded desperate, she _was,_ and he might as well know it.

“Please, what?” His lips were on the shell of her ear, and his fingers wouldn’t stop, and she whimpered.

“Please fuck me.”

And he froze. That - that wasn’t something that usually happened in her dreams. Her heart stopped. He cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded strained when he breathed out, “Are you - I thought - you didn't -"

Oh no. Oh no oh no. Situations like this didn’t _happen_ in her dreams, in her dreams he would just take her, things like this only happened in her actual life -

Her eyes flew open, and nothing changed, and he was still behind her, and his hard cock was still pressed against her ass and his fingers were still -

No wonder it all felt so good.

But what the hell was he doing here?

His hands were gone from her immediately, and she spun around to face him, and - she must have said that out loud. He looked like he’d been slapped, and she felt a pit of dread in her stomach - this was not what she wanted, not at all. 

Oh _no._ She had to fix this. 

She was stumbling over her words, and so was he, and she couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying over her own ramblings but he was definitely apologizing and she didn’t _want_ that - 

Because it was fine that he was here. It was nice, actually. Had she not had to stop herself from fantasizing about something just like this not too long ago? He had just… surprised her. Her memory from last night was a bit foggy, but thinking back now, she was pretty sure she had fallen asleep on his chest. And then - some snippets flashed through her mind, where he was wriggling out from under her, and he was getting up to leave, and -

_Please, stay._

She had said that. Some things were foggy, but on that point, she was sure. And now he thought she didn’t want him here, and he was trying to leave again. She had to stop him. 

She was faster than him - she pushed him down and straddled him, forcing him to look up at her. She had to make him _listen_ (this position seemed very familiar - she felt like she may have spent a lot of time like this last night). He blinked up at her, wide-eyed, and she knew she was always giving him a hard time for being confused but in this particular case, she supposed she really couldn’t blame him at all. She had to help him understand. She couldn’t think of anything to say other than the plain, simple truth.

“You just - you surprised me. I thought I was having another dream.” She didn’t break her gaze away from his, hoping he could see in her face everything that she was thinking - that it was _okay_ , she actually had been having a _very_ nice time waking up beside him, she didn’t mean to go and wreck everything -

She thought he may not be listening very closely, though. His hands had begun to run up and down the tops of her thighs, and - Gods, that was distracting. Had he even heard what she said?

“Another dream?” His voice sounded hoarse. Okay, so, he was listening, after all. That was a good sign. She froze on top of him. She -

She wasn’t supposed to tell him that, that was a key part of her plan, he wasn’t supposed to _know_ \- she felt heat begin to creep up her neck, and she opened her mouth to spew out a whole slew of denials.

She didn’t get a chance to, though, because his hands were on her ass, and he was grinding her down onto him, and - _oh_. Gods, no matter what emotional turmoil her brain was going through, his hard cock beneath her reminded her that her body still felt very much ready for him, and she almost cried out -

“I dream of you, too.” And it was so quiet, but she felt the words all over her body - maybe she was still asleep, actually. There was no way this was really happening. The look on his face and the darkness in his eyes melted away any last remnants of embarrassment she had been feeling. Maybe she was still dreaming; and if not, well… that was even better. Because if he was saying he spent his nights the same way she did hers, maybe he wanted her just as much as she did him, and that - that made her stomach tighten.

She leaned over him, dragging her center down his length as she did. He gripped her tighter. Her belly was full of liquid fire - she could feel so much, bare as she was, and there was so little between her and his soft skin. She rocked her hips against his hardness and she _wished_ he was as bare as she was. Did he dream of her like this, hungry and wanting on top of him? The thought made her heart hammer. She wanted to know.

“What happens, in your dreams?” She really had to learn how to get her breathing under control in situations like this.

His eyes were dark, and they raked over her form while his fingers dug into her. He gave her a little smirk, the one that made her stomach flip over.

“Maybe I’ll show you, one day.”

She wanted him to show her _today_. The strength of the conviction she felt surprised her - it wasn’t long ago, really, that she herself had drawn this line. She tried to remember her reasons why. Something about… preventative measures. She was trying to avoid problems before they happened - but shouldn’t she just deal with them as they came? Live in the moment? She felt a rush of exhilaration. She wanted to just do what she _wanted._

“Show me now.” She felt the words hanging in the air between them. He had to know what she meant - and she knew he wanted the same thing. As much as he wanted to do ‘the right thing’, she wasn’t an idiot. She had physical evidence that he wanted this, it was pressed against her, driving her crazy, right now. She watched him - she could see him thinking. Her heart raced. He was taking too long -

“Arya -”

“I want you.” She cut him off. She knew, if he was saying her name like that, he didn’t understand that she was serious, and that she was _ready_ , and he didn’t have to worry. She was sure of what she wanted. And she needed him to know - she had to say something else, because he wasn’t getting it -

“You already have me.” He whispered it out, and it seemed like he was almost pleading with her, and - did her heart stop? Her stomach was fluttering, and she couldn’t breathe - 

He didn’t mean -

Did he? No - surely not. But he was looking at her like - like _she_ was the one who wasn’t getting it. Like he needed to make _her_ understand - but understand what?

The racing of her heart and trembling of her hands was giving her an idea of what. But maybe she was wrong -

_You’re not wrong._

And then she was kissing him, and rocking against him, and she felt a bit desperate but she didn’t have the right words, she just wanted him to know that he had her too, he had all of her - _that_ was what she wanted. She wanted all of him - everything he had to give, with nothing held back. She couldn’t say it in so many words, not yet - but she did the best she could.

“I want all of you.” She pulled back just enough that she could look into his eyes (because she needed him to _know_ even though she didn’t have the words yet). His eyes were darting back and forth between hers, and his hands had shifted slightly, and his thumbs were running along her hip bones, and he was so hard beneath her, and - was she shaking?

He swallowed.

“You… you’re sure?”

She nodded. She let out a breath - she didn’t realize she’d been holding it in, but she definitely had been. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat and she was nervous, but she was excited, and - she was happy. And she _was_ sure. She wanted him. More than she had ever wanted anything. She didn’t know, exactly, how to start - she should probably kiss him again, right? She meant to, but he interrupted -

“I just - I want you to know, first -”

“Birthday delivery for the birthday princess!” Hot Pie was banging on her door, and then, without waiting for any kind of response whatsoever, he was barging in, carrying a tray in one hand with what actually looked like a delectable breakfast spread - 

She was scrambling to cover herself (at least her top half was decent, but her shirt - wait, this wasn’t even her shirt - this was Gendry’s shirt - had she been wearing this the whole time? Either way - it had ridden up far too high for Hot Pie’s eyes) and Gendry was directing some choice expletives at their unexpected guest. In his defense, Hot Pie seemed like this was the absolute last thing he wanted - he had squeezed his eyes shut, and he was waving the tray in their general direction, bleating out, “Oh - Gods - not again - someone take this -”

She shot out of Gendry’s lap and grabbed the tray. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful, really, but she may have asked what the _hell_ he thought he was doing -

“You said you always had breakfast in bed, it’s a birthday tradition, I thought - It would be - well, not like _this_ , that’s for sure - so I’m just gonna…” He was backing up the whole time, with his eyes still clamped shut, and he wasn’t walking straight and bumped into her dresser but finally, _finally_ he was gone. She shut the door behind him, and turned back to her bed - she was still holding the tray.

This… okay, this seemed awkward. What - what was she supposed to do now? She felt very aware of the tray she was holding. Should she… just act like nothing happened? And put it, out of sight, or something? No - no, that was weird. She couldn’t just get into bed with him there and start eating though - Gods, they had been right in the _middle_ of something. Maybe she could just… try to backtrack, but just a little.

She bit her lip.

“You were gonna say something, before.” She wished she didn’t sound so nervous.

“I - was I?” She didn’t take his hesitation to be a particularly good sign, but she was nothing if not determined.

“Yes. Said you wanted me to know something.” Her heart was pounding. She felt like she was holding the tray very tight.

“Oh - just - was gonna wish you a happy birthday, is all. It wasn’t, ah, it wasn’t a whole big thing.” She felt like all the air was gone from her lungs. That _wasn’t_ what he was going to say, it couldn’t have been, that didn’t even make sense, but now she would never know, and she felt… way more upset than was maybe logically warranted in this situation.

“Oh. Well, thanks.” She didn’t mean for it to sound so flat, she just…she couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, sure.” He cleared his throat, and then he was up out of her bed, and telling her to enjoy her breakfast, and that he would see her later, and then…

Then he was gone. She felt a prickle of anxiety - what the hell had just happened? She thought he - she thought that they -

She didn’t know what she thought.

She did find that she wasn’t particularly hungry, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot Pie is the biggest supporter of their love and also THE biggest cock block, it is known  
> I have been awake for a very long time so I apologize if there are mistakes :)  
> I am addicted to praise so feel free to enable me by posting nice comments if you like it <3  
> Thanks for reading


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the train at the Miscommunication Station

The rest of her birthday passed in a blur. Her parents called her, and so did her brothers, and some of her friends - and then Meera showed up, unannounced, and she was insisting they go out to the bar because they simply must _celebrate_. 

She couldn’t exactly say no to that, could she? Not when the cause for the celebration was _her_ (and the alternative was sitting at home wondering when and if she would see Gendry that night and if so, what he would say to her and what would happen - that felt like entirely too much stress). So she went, and she had a nice enough time, and she cursed the (small) part of her that wished she _was_ home, because maybe he was there, and maybe if they had a chance to talk, alone, with no interruptions, then he would -

She cut herself off. She could be wrong. It had been known to happen, rarely. She wouldn’t get ahead of herself. 

She should tell that to her stomach, and all the gymnastics it decided to do when she felt her phone vibrate and looked down to see -

 **Gendry:** can I reserve an audience with you, m’lady? Tomorrow night? I want to talk to you and I have something for you :)

She couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at her lips. This was _it_ , she could feel it, he was going to tell her -

But still. When Meera asked, amused, what had just gotten her so giddy - she’d explain later. Tomorrow, probably. Once it was all straightened out for good - then, she’d tell her everything. She and Meera had one more drink (okay, two) before calling it a night. She stumbled in the door a little bit late, and she wasn’t _expecting_ him to be up (he was kind of an old man, honestly) but she still thought maybe he would be.

He wasn’t. 

Well, that was okay. Just fine, really. She would see him tomorrow, and he had something for her, and -

Her stomach was doing gymnastics again. She could hardly wait. 

**

A Sunday had never passed so slowly in her entire life. Why did he say Sunday _night_? She wished he would have met up with her this _morning_ \- then she could get it over with and maybe her stomach would calm down and she wouldn’t feel so jittery anymore. The coffee probably didn’t help. 

She couldn’t deal with this. This day was literally _never_ going to go by. Not at this rate, anyway. She had to do something. 

She sighed to herself. It’s not like she didn’t have work to do - she was actually a very busy student, she just… she didn’t want to study, or work on a paper, or -

She just wanted to talk to Gendry. 

She shook her head to herself slightly. She was being a brat. He said _evening_ \- she could wait. She would wait. She would occupy herself until then. 

With a renewed sense of purpose, she gathered her books and headed determinedly for the campus library. She would get some shit done, and then, she was sure, time would fly by and she would be on her way home before she knew it. This was a tried and tested plan - she had done it just last week, after all, and it had been wildly successful. 

**

She set up camp in a cozy spot she deemed acceptable, and had gotten through three required readings and half of one assignment before everything came crashing down around her. 

It started off as a minor inconvenience. 

A couple of girls had sat down behind her - okay, that was no problem. Yes, she preferred silence and had chosen to sit here because there was no one around, but - it was fine. She didn’t _own_ this library (unfortunately). They could sit there if they had to. 

It was just - they sure had a lot to say, and were libraries not meant to be quiet places? One of them was going into extreme detail about a date she had just been on, and how the guy was just _way_ too nice, didn’t even _try_ to make a move, and what the hell was his problem?

Arya rolled her eyes and tried her best to tune them out. 

Were they getting louder, or was she just getting worse at staying focused?

“What happened with that guy - the one with the kinda fucked name - was it Gendor? Or Gendron, or something? You know who I’m talking about, the hot one -“

Okay, could they talk about this somewhere else, honestly, this was the library, and she, for one, was actually trying to get something done. Maybe she should clear her throat or something, in a semi-obnoxious way, so they would get the hint -

“Gendry?”

Arya froze. This was not happening. She snuck a glance over her shoulder - she could only see the backs of their heads. She felt a creeping sense of dread come over her. 

“Yes! That’s the one.”

Girl #2 scoffed. 

“Honestly, fuck that guy.” Despite the pit that was growing in her stomach, she felt a flash of indignation towards this girl. What the hell was her problem -

“Thought you already did,” the first girl teased, and - yeah, no, her dread was definitely not misplaced. This was _not_ happening, she would not sit here and listen to this - why couldn’t she move?

She had to get out of here, her heart was hammering and she felt panicked - she did not want to hear about some girl _having_ him, having him in ways that she hadn’t, and who knew what it was like when she didn’t -

She didn’t understand why she was rooted to the spot. 

“Don’t remind me,” the second girl groaned out. “I mean, he was a good lay and all, but he’s a total dick. Pretty sure he has a girlfriend-“

“You’re fucking kidding!” Her friend exclaimed, and Arya couldn’t help but agree wholeheartedly - had her stomach left her body? Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, and her hands shook. 

“I wish - I heard him talking about it yesterday to that chubby kid who wants to be called Pie or something - I think they live together? Anyway - doesn’t matter. But yeah. It didn’t really sound _new_ , the way he was going on. So. Not sure what the hell he was doing, messing around with me. _So_ shady.” 

Her friend responded, probably, most likely, but she couldn’t hear - she couldn’t hear anything, because there was a rushing in her ears, and her heart was pounding much too loud, and her mouth was dry - was she going to be sick? This had to be the girl - the girl from ‘The Incident’, she was pretty sure, but honestly - maybe it wasn’t. Maybe this was _another_ girl - _and_ there was a girlfriend?

Maybe she wouldn’t be sick, maybe she would just casually pass out -

She shot up out of her seat, and she was throwing everything into her bag haphazardly and she might have even left some behind but she didn’t give a _fuck_ because she had to get out of there. 

She had to get home - she had to - what? What the hell was she supposed to do? She made it outside, and tried to steady herself by breathing in the cold air. 

This couldn’t be right, it just couldn’t, it didn’t make _sense_ -

_It does though._

Memories flashed through her mind, of all the times he hesitated, and all the times he seemed like he wanted to tell her something, and all the times he seemed like he was holding back and she hadn’t known _why_ but she’d started to think it was because -

She wouldn’t finish that thought, she couldn’t. She hadn’t been sure, but - she never thought she would be _this_ wrong. Was she just completely oblivious? He was out so much lately, too, and he wasn’t back until _late_ , and she never actually asked where the hell he went -

She thought of Hot Pie, and hurt and anger flared up inside her. He was her friend, too, as much as Gendry’s - how could he know this was going on, and not try to look out for her?

She didn’t want to think about it, but her mind reeled back to last week when he _did_ try to talk to her, and he _was_ worried, and - she told him she knew everything. She knew everything, and she was fine. _She_ told him that. 

But _still_ \- she didn’t think he would be okay with actual cheating. He wouldn’t. He would have said something, to Gendry at least -

She remembered the first time he found them, in the kitchen, and the arguing she’d thought she’d heard. And Hot Pie trying to catch his eye, the next time, like he needed to talk, and -

Her stomach turned. Ice was running through her veins. She couldn’t stand here aimlessly anymore. She had to do something. She had to go home. She had to find out for herself - she had to hear it from him. He owed her that, at least. 

**

She wasn’t sure if her thoughts had ever raced so fast, but the whole way home, she was going around and around in circles, and ultimately, she just didn’t understand. 

She could understand him not wanting to be with her. This was casual, no strings attached - that had been the unspoken agreement from the start. It was just for practice, it wasn’t ‘a thing’. She wouldn’t pretend it didn’t sting, (even though she’d tried to convince herself, every single day, that she was fine with it) but she could _understand_ it. 

She couldn’t understand how he could have been serious about someone else this whole time. It just didn’t make sense. It _must_ not have been official - Library Girl had said it didn’t sound new, but she was making her own assumptions. She just heard them talking yesterday. She couldn’t take that as fact. He _must_ have just decided - and he told her that he wanted to talk. He was going to tell her they had to stop, and it was so far from what she thought he - but, still, she would respect it. Just thinking about it hurt - but she would live. She’d survive this. He _couldn’t_ have had a girlfriend this whole time, and he would end it today. 

He had to. 

Didn’t he?

The poisonous thought struck her that maybe he wouldn’t. He didn’t know she knew. He didn’t know he’d been caught - maybe he liked this girl well enough, sure, but that didn’t mean he was going to turn down a chance to get off quick and easy if it fell into his lap -

Adrenaline was coursing through her as she flew through the front door. Her heart pounded, and she was so frantic - he better be here. She needed answers, and she needed them _now_. She found him in the living room, on the couch with a textbook and a sitcom playing in the background. He looked happy to see her. Happy, and a bit nervous, and - how dare he look at her like that?

His eyebrows creased as she stormed towards him, but he chuckled a bit. 

“Hey - bad day?” 

_You have no fucking idea._

She shoved his book out of the way and straddled him -

“I don’t want to talk right now,” she bit out, and then she was kissing him, but it was okay because he would stop her, he would, he had to -

He didn’t. 

And she hated herself, a little bit, for not pulling away immediately, but if this would be the last time they did this, she just wanted to lose herself in it (just one last time - just for a minute). But she was so angry, and she bit his lip, and he groaned into her mouth and it _still_ shot arousal through her and she was wished, she _wished_ he didn’t affect her like this. Maybe - maybe she wasn’t being fair.

She hadn’t given him a chance to say anything, she had ambushed him - but, no, _fuck_ that. The way he was kissing her, with a hand in her hair and the other one on her ass keeping her firmly pressed against him - he was a more than willing participant, here, and it shouldn’t _matter_ how aggressive she was. If he truly had feelings for someone else, if he had any decency, he would stop her. 

Deep down, she had really thought that he would. 

Anger, and sadness, and _bitter_ disappointment welled in her, and she couldn’t do this anymore. She pulled away, and her chest hurt, and she had a terrifying suspicion that she might start crying, and she _couldn’t._ Not in front of him. 

She focused on her anger. That, she was more than willing to let him see. She was breathing heavily, and her heart was thundering, and -

“Are you really just going to act like everything is normal?” She didn’t like the tone of her voice, and how it was cutting, and mean - she didn’t want to act like this, but how was she supposed to do anything else?

He looked shocked, and dropped his hands from her immediately. 

“I don’t - I’m sorry - I thought - _what?_ ”

He wasn’t going to tell her _anything_. He would pretend he didn’t know, find out what she knew first, not give anything away - classic move. Her nostrils flared. 

“I know what you told Hot Pie yesterday. About your _girlfriend_.” The words tasted like bile in her mouth, and she spat them out at him. She watched him closely, so she could see it all happen - his eyes widened further, and there it was, panic, and _guilt_ -

“Arya, look -“

As much as she thought, just a short time ago, that she wanted answers, she had decidedly changed her mind. She didn’t want to hear a _single_ thing he had to say. 

“I just - I can’t _fucking_ believe you.” She didn’t try to hide the disdain in her voice, but really, she didn’t know why she said anything at all - she should just leave, honestly, because what could she actually accomplish here?

He surprised her again, though, when his jaw tightened, and his eyes hardened, and she wished he didn’t have to be so fucking beautiful because she wanted _so badly_ to hate him and it was so hard for her when he looked like that. 

If she had disliked her own tone, she liked his even less. 

“Gods - _sorry_ \- I didn’t think it would bother you this much, but obviously I’m just a fucking idiot -“ 

He didn’t sound sorry. Not at all. He sounded mad. But she wasn’t about to disagree with him, he _was_ an idiot, and did he really have the nerve to be angry with _her_ right now? He didn’t think it would bother her? What _planet_ was he on?

A small part of her registered that she had _never_ seen him look like this, actually, and he was more than just mad, he was hurt, and -

It hurt her to hurt him. She didn’t want to - but how the hell was this her fault? What business did he have, being hurt because she didn’t want to be his side piece? Just like that - her flash of empathy was gone, and she was a ball of rage once again. 

“You didn’t think it would bother me. Really. You are running around with some girlfriend, this _whole time,_ and you didn’t think that was something you should _tell me?_ ”

She was almost screeching, at this point, and it probably really wasn’t a good look but she just - she couldn’t. _How_ could he do this?

“ _What?”_ Okay, now he was going to act shocked? She felt like she was losing her mind. He was certainly looking at her like she’d lost her mind. 

He tried to grab her hands -

“ _Don’t_ touch me -“

And he pulled them back, like he’d been burned, and then they were in his hair and his face was ashen -

“Are you - is this a _joke_ right now?”

Was she laughing? She thought she might, actually, in a hysterical way, but _no_ this was not a fucking joke. She hadn’t experienced anything less funny in an awfully long time. 

The reality of what was happening hit her, and how un-fixable this was, and how ruined everything was because of her stupid plan and her stupid feelings and _why_ did he have to turn out to be like this?

She could feel a lump in her throat, and her hands were quivering, and she felt the telltale sting behind her eyes. She wouldn’t let herself cry, she couldn’t let him see -

“Arya -" He saw, and he knew, she could tell from the quiet and broken way he said her name -

She had to leave. She couldn’t let him see her like this, and have him try to be the one to fix it, and comfort her - he couldn’t fix this. He’s the one that broke it. She sprang off of him, and was mumbling something fairly inaudible about going out, and he was calling after her but she could hardly hear him over the ringing in her ears. 

She let out a ragged breath once she was on the other side of the door. 

She didn’t know what to do now, and she just - she needed someone. 

She called her sister, and asked if she could come over, and tried to keep her voice light and steady, but when she asked if she could _stay_ , for the night, maybe a bit longer - she couldn’t keep the tremble out of it. 

**

It was only when she got to Sansa’s that she realized she hadn’t brought anything but her school bag with her. That wasn’t ideal for spending the night, let alone multiple nights. This was probably the least of her problems, really, but it just seemed like too much, and as soon as she got inside she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Because everything was messed up, and she had been so wrong about everything, and she was hurt and she didn’t even _bring_ anything -

Sansa held her, and petted her hair like their mother would have done, and finally released her to make them a cup of tea (she ignored Arya’s sniffle that she didn’t _like_ tea). 

Once she was gripping the hot mug, though, and taking tentative sips, she had to admit that it was soothing. 

“Okay,” Sansa sighed. “Tell me what happened. Who am I going after?”

And she didn’t want to tell her, really, because saying it out loud seemed like too much, and she knew how stupid she sounded (how stupid she _was_ ) but - before she knew it, the whole story was tumbling out. 

She started from pretty much the beginning, and how she had discovered her inconvenient attraction to him. She told Sansa about her plan, and how she really thought it was fine, but _maybe,_ despite her best efforts, she did get confused, a bit, but she thought - she thought he maybe felt the same.

Then she got to today, and how he had been _lying_ , pretty much, by omission at the very least, this whole time. 

She expected… well, she expected a bit more of a reaction from Sansa, to be honest. Some expletives and disgusted head shakes at least. 

Instead, she just… looked confused. What part of the story did she not get? She thought it was pretty straight forward. She accidentally fell for him and he turned out to be a complete and utter snake. The end. 

“He has a girlfriend? He told you this?” She didn’t like the look on Sansa’s face one bit. She frowned. 

“I _told_ you. I confronted him, and he freaked out, and he didn’t even _try_ to deny it.”

“What _exactly_ did he say, though?”

Arya threw her hands up in frustration. Whose side was Sansa on? What did it _matter_ what exact words he used? The result was the same. She couldn’t hide her irritation when she snipped, “He said: ‘Arya, look’, and then he got super pissy about how he didn’t think I would mind, and then he said he was a fucking idiot, which I agree with, and then he asked me if I was _joking.”_

Sansa was doing that _thing_ again, where she just looked at her all meaningfully, and like she knew something, and - no. 

She knew where this was going, and she was _not_ down for it - not today. 

“Don’t. Please.” She cut Sansa off as soon as she saw her mouth open. 

“Don’t tell me that there might be an explanation, and maybe it’s all fixable - this isn’t one of your rom-coms, okay, this is real life, and sometimes things _are_ exactly what they look like, and they’re just… _shitty._ ”

Sansa looked like she wanted to argue, but she must have seen something in the set of Arya’s jaw that let her know it was a lost cause. 

She didn’t want to hear it. 

She couldn’t let herself think, for one second, that maybe it wasn’t how it looked - because then she would hope. Even if she didn’t want to, or mean to, she would. 

And look where that got her, last time. 

She wasn’t going to let that happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I think this level of dumbassery is at all realistic NO  
> Do I care? Also NO  
> Am I afraid of what the response to this will be YES  
> Also I'm loling at Arya saying 'this isn't like one of your rom-coms' because yes it is 100%  
> :) Thanks for reading


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patience is a virtue, my friends, so I hope you have a ton of it

She slept like shit. Or maybe she didn’t sleep at all - it was difficult to say. Her thoughts wouldn’t let her rest and she knew Sansa meant well, really, and all she herself wanted to do was get over it and move on, but…

She couldn’t stop thinking. 

She thought of the things that still just didn’t quite make sense, and then she thought of Sansa’s words, and then -

What if she _was_ wrong? Wrong earlier, but right, actually, all along?

That didn’t make any sense either. There were too many variables, she didn’t know what was happening - and no. No, she wasn’t wrong this time. He had a girlfriend, he told Hot Pie, and he was so defensive when she asked (okay, attacked him, slightly) about it. 

She couldn’t let Sansa get in her head. Then she would just be crushed all over again, when she got a reminder of the truth. Her stomach turned as she thought of his nameless, faceless girlfriend - would he bring her over now? Around their place? And Arya would have to act normal, and unfazed, and pretend it wasn’t ripping her to shreds from the inside out?

She couldn’t _believe_ -

She had to, though. It happened. There was no use going back and reliving all the soft looks he gave her, and how patient he always was with her, and just torturing herself more.

She didn’t - she hadn’t realized, fully, maybe, how invested she actually was until it was all taken away.

She couldn’t deny it now, lying in the dark, heart still racing and stomach still in knots. She couldn’t keep pretending that this thing with him wasn’t a big deal, she just had to get him out of her system, she didn’t actually _care_ -

She did care. She cared so much, _too_ much, and -

She wasn’t sure, but she was pretty certain this was how it felt to have your heart broken, and - it really fucking sucked.

**

She must have dozed off at some point, because suddenly Sansa was waking her (with more tea, Gods, did she ever stop with that?) and she was throwing on her same clothes from the night before, and that was just not a good feeling, but - the show must go on, as they say.

She made her way through her classes in a daze. She couldn’t stop _thinking_. All she did, all day, was go around and around in circles. Maybe if she could make sense of things - of her own feelings, at least, then she could start to recover. 

She was definitely still angry. She was angry with Hot Pie, for not just telling her what was going on. Sansa, for putting these stupid ideas in her head in the first place. Gendry - well, obviously. But mostly - she was angry with herself.

She _knew_ this would happen. How many times had she told herself that she couldn’t get attached, that it didn’t mean anything, that nothing was different between them? She couldn’t even count them. She knew. But somehow, she still… she let herself get carried away. She was pretending she didn’t care, that everything was fine, and trying so hard to convince herself that was the case that she really almost believed it.

And yet still, here she was, crushed by reality when everything that she already knew to be true was presented in front of her face. 

She had been stupid - but, mostly, she had been arrogant.

She couldn’t stop the rush of hot shame that flushed over her as she considered her actions. This whole plan had resulted from him having a one-night stand, with a girl he clearly was not attached to and, for all she knew, never spoke to again.

And she thought that, because he smiled at her a few times, and he was sweet with her, and she went further with him than she had with anyone else, that - it was different?

_She_ was different?

She wasn’t. He had never said that she was, and she was an _idiot_ to think otherwise. He could have any girl he wanted - of that, she was completely certain.

And she just thought… that that girl would be her? Because she wanted it to be that way? She should know better than to just wish something into existence. Wanting something to be a certain way would do nothing to actually _make_ it that way. She wanted to fold in on herself and never have to face him again. Because she was pretty sure he knew, now - her extreme reaction to his having a girlfriend must have given her away. That wasn’t the way a person behaved when they were calm, cool, collected - _casual_.

But she would have to go home eventually. 

The thought filled her with dread - even if he wasn’t there, and she didn’t have to actually see him, it didn’t _matter_. She didn’t want to stand in the kitchen, where he first kissed her, or walk through the living room, where they had shared so many laughs, and _Gods_ -

She definitely was not interested in stepping foot in her bedroom, where -

She couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t think about what had happened, and what had _almost_ happened - thank the Gods for Hot Pie’s interruption, really. She had been less than pleased with him at the time, obviously, but now… maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Because she was already so upset, if they had… if she’d...

It would be even worse right now, she was sure.

Her classes had to end eventually, she supposed, and finally they did. She trudged back to Sansa’s, and -

She was in the kitchen, and gave her one perfunctory glance before apparently deciding that action needed to be taken.

“I’m taking you home,” she declared firmly, in her ‘responsible adult’ tone that brooked no argument.

Fine. Arya was too tired to argue anyway. It had to happen at some point. Might as well get it over with. Then she’d be able to change into some fresh clothes, at least. She nodded vaguely, and let herself be marched back to her place. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. She was tired, and in a daze, and maybe she wouldn’t even notice all those things she was dreading. She was too tired to feel anything, anyway (right?).

She opened the door and -

Wrong. She was so, so wrong, _again_.

Because there was Hot Pie, looking for all the world like he was waiting for her, and then -

There was Gendry.

And he was sitting at the counter, hands clasped and knuckles almost white, and his brows were pressed together, and -

She was pretty sure her heart had stopped, and her stomach had left her body. She had to get out of here, she couldn’t do this, she might as well just move out starting right this very second and bring no belongings with her, it was time for a fresh start anyway -

She turned to flee - but Sansa was there, and - was she actually blocking the door? Physically, with her body?

Any other time, Arya might have found herself impressed with the strength of Sansa’s conviction to keep her here. It wasn’t like her to be this invested.

Right now, though - right now she just had to leave.

And Sansa was in her way.

Her jaw set, and she put on her most intimidating scowl.

“Move,” Arya hissed through her teeth, and she fully expected Sansa to do just that - why was she _always_ wrong? 

Sansa looked completely unfazed, actually, and was she really this un-intimidating? Her sister merely raised a delicate eyebrow at her.

“You -”

Sansa cut her off.

“Why don’t you see how this goes, first, and then decide what names you’d like to call me.”

The nerve.

She already knew very well what names she would like to call her. She had a plethora of them on the tip of her tongue, and not one was particularly complimentary.

She felt panic rising through her but she tried to force it down and just focus on Sansa - one thing at a time. If she didn’t turn around, she wouldn’t see him, and she could pretend he wasn’t there, and that her real problem - her real problem was Sansa. Obviously. She wondered if this was how trapped animals felt in the wild - she didn’t want to lash out, really, it wasn’t her idea of fun, but if she was going to be ripped to pieces here you can be damn sure she would fight for her escape -

“Arya.” Hot Pie broke her out of her panicked reverie, and she swung around to face him - why did she do that? She was supposed to stay firmly facing the door, Gods, she had _just_ decided that -

Was he eating popcorn? Right now? Really?

Sansa seemed to share her sentiments - she heard her let out a disapproving scoff.

He patted the stool beside him.

“Let’s chat.” She didn’t want to chat.

“Really? The popcorn?” Thank you, Sansa. On this point, at least, they were allied. Popcorn was far too jovial of a snack for this somber occasion.

“This is more dramatic than any movie I’ve been to lately,” Hot Pie replied, nonchalant. He merely shrugged and tossed one up into the air, catching it in his mouth. How coordinated. She wouldn’t have expected him to be able to do that, it was actually quite impressive -

He patted the stool beside him again.

Scratch that. Nothing he did was impressive, ever. He was her nemesis. She whirled around, not yet having given up on the idea of escape -

Sansa continued to block the door, and, okay, this must just be her life now. At this point, she didn’t really see any choice but to sit down beside Hot Pie. Unfortunately, this put her directly in front of Gendry, and she would definitely have a difficult time not looking at him when he was right in front of her fucking face but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t find a way. She sat herself down, attempting to do so with as much derision as possible, hoping Hot Pie could feel it coming off of her in waves.

She’s pretty sure he did not.

“Okay, you knuckleheads. I was really hoping you could figure things out without outside assistance, but alas, it turns out I was deeply, _deeply_ wrong about that.”

He - knuckleheads? He was going to call her a knucklehead? Wasn’t a bunch of this his own fault, too, for knowing about what was going on and doing nothing to warn her?

She turned to glare at him, but before she could unleash the full force, he was already waving his arms around in what she assumed was supposed to be a reassuring manner (it really, really wasn’t).

“Okay,” Hot Pie sighed heavily. “Where to begin. Gendry, would you like to elaborate on this mystery woman you were discussing your deep feelings for with me the other day?”

She could _kill_ Hot Pie. Was he really thinking this was going to help anything? He thought she wanted to sit here and listen to Gendry talk about his girlfriend, and his ‘deep feelings’? She might hit something. And that something might very well be Hot Pie, and it’s not like didn’t deserve it -

“I was talking about you.” 

She almost didn’t even hear Gendry, he muttered it so quietly, and her thoughts were so loud, and - 

What?

She didn’t have any air in her lungs, and something was crushing her chest. This didn’t make any sense _either_ , what the hell was happening? But he - he couldn’t have been talking about her. Library Girl said he had a girlfriend, she said that, and she -

She had to say something. The seconds were ticking by, and everyone was just looking at her -

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

Sansa scoffed behind her, and Hot Pie threw up his hands in exasperation. 

Gendry was glaring holes into the countertop, clenching his jaw and seeming like he wanted to hit something as much, if not more, than she herself did.

“I am very aware of that, thank you.” 

The words seemed to pain him as he bit them out at her. Her heart stuttered in her chest and she chanced a glance over at Hot Pie - he had obviously been thinking this was going to help, and she couldn’t help but feel like… it was not. Helping.

What the _hell_ was going on here? It’s not like she had said anything that wasn’t true. She _wasn’t_ his girlfriend. He had never asked her, never even alluded to it, so what business did he have being riled up that she was not aware of this development?

She felt, not for the first time, that she was losing her _damn_ mind.

“Look, I never said you were, alright? I was just telling Hot Pie… how things were, you know, going.” He looked at her, finally, and she wished he would go back to glaring into the counter because how was she supposed to function when he looked at her like that? She was no match for him. She felt frozen under his gaze, like his icy eyes were holding her in place and there was no way she could move, or breathe, or speak -

“With us.” Now he was going to say things like ‘us’? Was he trying to kill her? If she thought there was no air in her lungs, before, she had no idea what the hell she was experiencing now. None of this made sense. _Nothing_ made any sense here.

He was saying… he had been talking about her?

There was no way. That didn’t - why wouldn’t -

Her panic was back in full force.

Because if that was true - then -

She thought of all the things she said to him. Horrible things, really, and she stormed out, and she didn’t even listen, and -

This couldn’t be her fault, it couldn’t, someone should have _said_ something -

“Why didn’t you just _say_ that yesterday?” Oh, look at that. She did still know how to speak. Her tone was definitely edging on hysterical, but that really wasn’t something she had time to worry about right now. He should have said something. Right? That could have avoided this whole mess. 

This couldn’t be her fault, because if it was, how would he ever forgive her?

“I thought you knew!” At least she wasn’t the only one sounding panicked. His hands were in his hair, and his eyes were darting around wildly until they settled on Hot Pie -

“ _How_ was I supposed to know that?”

Was she crazy, or was everyone else crazy? He had never said anything, not once, and when she confronted him he just looked so guilty - why would he do that, if it was all about her? 

Gendry seemed at a loss for words at this point, and was looking pleadingly to Hot Pie - for assistance, she could only assume. Hot Pie finally chose to intervene on this mess of his own making, and he really was quite calm; she was amazed the wild tension radiating off of both her and Gendry had not spread to him yet.

“Everyone knows, Arya.” He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “It’s _so_ obvious.” Could he finish chewing before spewing nonsense like this? She didn’t think anything was obvious, she thought everything was clear as mud, to be perfectly honest.

But Gendry was nodding vigorously - was he agreeing with Hot Pie? So he also thought everything was ‘so obvious’? She whipped her head around to assess Sansa - okay, she also looked like there was no new information that had been shared here today -

So it was… it was just her who was completely lost? How the hell did that happen?

How…

Okay, this was not good. It was starting to look like this may have been her fault, after all, at least a little bit (completely?). So he…

He _did_ feel the same as her? Maybe? But then why…

“But you got so mad,” She whispered out. She wished her voice didn’t sound so small, and she didn’t sound so unsure of herself. She felt shaky - she was shaking, actually, she was pretty sure, so that would make sense.

He made his way towards her, tentatively, as if she would run off if he made any sudden moves. Given their last interaction, she supposed she couldn’t really blame him for that.

And then he was right beside her, and - she hoped she wouldn’t be asked to go say anything else because her brain didn’t _work_ when he stood this close to her. She could smell his stupid tree-like soap, and if she reached her hand out she could touch him, and - that’s what she wanted to do. But she couldn’t, not yet, because she still didn’t understand -

“I thought you knew.” He was quiet too, at least, so it wasn’t just her. His eyes were soft, now, and they were so blue she couldn’t help but think of stupid poetic metaphors about the sea and the sky and -

“I thought you knew, and I thought _that_ was what you were pissed about.” She blinked. If he had been talking about her, then why would she -

He knew he would have to elaborate, he must have seen it in the blank look she was sure was on her face. Just like she could tell from the furrow of his brow how much he didn’t want to. He let out a sigh, and his jaw tensed again.

“Because I - you said it was just for practice, and I went and tried to turn it into something else, something that… wasn’t what you wanted.”

She felt like she had been doused in cold water. He didn’t think that - he couldn’t possibly think that. I mean, yes, she had said that, initially, but…

She didn’t mean it even when she said it, and her conviction had done nothing but lessen with every moment she spent with him. 

He cleared his throat.

“So. If… I’m sorry if I made things weird for you. I just - I couldn’t have you thinking there was... someone else. Because there’s not. If you’re gonna be mad, I want it to be… over the right thing, at least.” He wasn’t looking at her anymore.

His eyes were downcast, and his brows were knitted together, and - how could he _possibly_ think she wouldn’t want him? How could anyone not?

“I’m not mad,” she breathed. She was feeling a lot of things, that was certainly true, but for the first time since the dreaded Library situation… anger was the furthest thing from her mind. She wasn’t sure if she could name everything that was going on inside of her. There appeared to be a bit of a war going on, between -

Well, between wanting to smile, and dance, and celebrate, and _kiss_ him because he was standing there saying he felt everything that she did - and… at the same time wanting to curl up into a ball, and cry, and avoid him for the rest of time, because… she had been so wrong. And she hadn’t let him explain anything, and this was all her fault, and she had thought such terrible things about him, and - 

He didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve any of this, and he thought - he still thought _she_ might be mad at _him_?

“You’re not?” Okay, that confirmed it, he definitely was still thinking she had any right to be angry with him whatsoever - she had no idea what went on in his brain, ever. She had to apologize, he should be mad at _her_ , did he not realize this?!

“No, I - I’m sorry. If I’d just listened, or let you talk -“ She broke off. This was too much, she was feeling too much, how could this really be happening? A bolt of panic shot through her that maybe she’d been asleep this whole time, and she’d wake up at Sansa’s, hurt and upset -

She dug her nails into her palm, experimentally, and - no, this must be real. It had to be, or she wouldn’t feel it, she wouldn’t feel all of this -

She had a lump in her throat. 

“I almost ruined everything.” She could barely get the words out. Because it was true, the whole explosion was her own fault, and it was so unnecessary - why did he even want to talk to her at all?

“But you didn’t.” It was so simple. Everything he did was so simple, and she used to tease him for it, and call him stupid, but now -

Was there anything wrong with simple, really?

Could they really just… go forward?

He was so close to her, and his hands reached up to cradle her face. She wondered what he must see there. Could he tell what a mess she was?

If he could, it didn’t deter him. His thumbs stroked her cheeks, and her heart hammered in her chest. He was so, _so_ close to her, and he wanted her, for real, and -

She caught a glimpse of Sansa over his shoulder and froze. Gods, she had forgotten there was an avid audience here. Sansa was watching their exchange with an extremely satisfied look on her face, and Hot Pie - he was looking on dreamily, still contentedly tossing popcorn into his mouth. 

Arya cleared her throat, hoping they would get the memo. Their work here, while extremely appreciated, was most definitely done, and her and Gendry could maybe do with a little bit of privacy for the next little bit.

Sansa noticed, thank the Gods, and all of a sudden she was announcing to Hot Pie that they had somewhere to be, remember, they had… a social engagement - okay, that definitely sounded fake, but sure. Arya certainly was not going to complain. 

Sansa kept babbling until Hot Pie finally gave in, and headed out the door (bowl of popcorn still in tow - did that boy ever stop eating?). It closed behind them, and - it seemed very quiet, now. 

Gendry’s hands had left her face, and he had them now firmly planted on the counter, one on either side of her, and he was leaning in towards her -

Her heart raced.

What had they been talking about?

“You were apologizing.” Had she asked out loud? She must have - why could her thoughts never stay put inside her head where they belonged? But yes, she _had_ been apologizing, and maybe she should keep going, she had a lot more she could say -

“You want to make it up to me?”

She swallowed. Her throat felt dry - his voice had lowered, and from the way he was looking at her she could make a guess (a fairly educated one, now) about what he meant. A bolt of heat shot through her. She wet her lips, and his eyes flickered down to her mouth. 

She wondered, not for the first time, how this was her life - except this time, the sentiment had a sense of wonder and giddiness attached to it, rather than dread.

She would _love_ to make it up to him. There was nothing she’d rather do, really. 

“I suppose that’s only fair,” she murmured, and she was trying to be a little bit coy, but there is no way he missed the way her voice shook slightly in anticipation.

She reached for him -

And then he was straightening up, and he’d pulled away from her, and she could breathe again but somehow even that was unwelcome if it meant he was further from her.

She made a fairly unladylike sound of protest (which he thankfully ignored).

“Promise me. If you ever have any… thoughts like this, again, you’ll talk to me.”

She felt a squeezing in her chest. Was her heart actually constricting? That couldn’t be good, but at the same time, she really didn’t want it to stop. 

She could do that.

He definitely tricked her, though - he for sure made her think -

That wasn’t very nice.

She couldn’t help but let out a little scoff, despite the fact that she had absolutely no qualms about his proposal, really.

“That’s really not where I thought that was going to go, but yes, I promise.” And then a smile was tugging at her lips, and she couldn’t even be bothered trying to tamp it down.

Because she didn’t have to, it didn’t matter, she didn’t have to hide from him how excited she was. She had a feeling it would make him happy too, actually, and… well, that really was something.

She was right.

“Why? What were you thinking?” He came back to lean towards her again, and Gods the smile he was giving her should be illegal - he _knew_ what she was thinking, he had put the ideas there himself, purposefully - he was such a shit.

She raised a brow at him.

“Let me show you.”

She saw him swallow, and she knew - she had him. For all his bravado and cocky grins, he was still just a bit nervous and shy when it came to things with her, and she just lo-

She liked that. About him.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her smile felt like it was taking up her whole face - she probably looked crazed, a little bit.

She didn’t care.

She hopped off the stool, grabbed his arm, and marched him down the hall.

She couldn’t have imagined feeling this good when she woke up this morning. She was so - she just -

Gods, Sansa was going to be so fucking smug.

She didn't care about that either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could possible happen next? Gee whiz honestly I have no idea  
> Thank you to everyone who is reading and commenting, you make this so much fun you have no idea!  
> We are nearing the end... one more chapter and then a mini epilogue.  
> I think I will be sad when this is over <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That thing I said about patience has not changed at all

She pulled him towards her room, but he resisted, surprising her. She turned back to face him - had he changed his mind already?

She knew it was too good to be true, she must have misunderstood that entire conversation and she was on the completely wrong page yet _again_ -

“Come to mine,” he murmured, and he was actually very close to her, and he didn’t seem to be wanting to put the brakes on this at all, now that she thought about it, at least not judging by the way he was looking at her.

“I still have something for you, remember?”

She did not remember.

She wracked her brain briefly, and it did click into place that on the dreaded Sunday (also known as, yesterday) when she had nearly set fire to her whole entire life on the premise of an eavesdropped conversation and a misunderstanding - they were supposed to talk.

He had asked her to talk, and said he had something for her - for her birthday, probably, she assumed, since he had never actually given her anything.

She felt a flutter in her lower belly.

She hadn’t been in his room before. Not ever.

She figured it couldn’t be that different, really, than him coming into hers, but still - it didn’t feel the same. It was like one more little baby step into another inch of his life that she hadn’t been allowed to set foot in before.

He gave her a soft smile, and she reached for him before her mind could even register what was happening. And then she was kissing him, and he was kissing her, and she was pretty sure he was walking her towards his room but she wasn’t entirely certain of anything at that moment. Not when his hands were gripping her hips, and her arms were around his neck, and his lips were -

So gentle. And soft, and sweet, and she really didn’t think he was trying to drive her so fucking crazy but somehow it didn’t matter what he was doing. If he was touching her in any way, she was losing her damn mind. 

He broke away from her when they reached his door. He looked nervous, again, suddenly, and - weren’t they past this? What did he have to be nervous about? 

He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat.

“After you, m’lady,” was all he said, and, well - that cleared up absolutely nothing. She rolled her eyes at him.

“Don’t call me that,” she grumbled, but she didn’t mind, not really. And he knew. She didn’t care _what_ he called her. He could do whatever he bloody well pleased when it came to her, apparently. How did she let this happen?

She pushed open his door and wandered into his room. She couldn’t help but peer around, as if she would be able to learn more about him simply by the manner in which he laid out his personal possessions. 

He was tidy - definitely more tidy than she was, but really, that was no great feat. It didn’t really surprise her, either. He seemed like he would be. It made sense with the other things she did know about him. That he was… solid. And stable. And steady. Not too much or too little of anything, really, and who ever would have guessed that that would be the most captivating thing in the entire world?

To be fair, it also didn’t seem like he really had a ton of belongings. She, herself, had a ton of shit. So _of course_ she would have a more difficult time keeping everything organized. That made perfect sense. It was basic...math? Science?

One of them.

It didn’t matter - this really wasn’t what she needed to be focusing on right now.

She broke off from her examinations when she noticed a large… something, wrapped, with a bright bow attached that seemed entirely too perky and loud for him to have possibly picked out himself, but there it was.

Her stomach swooped again. He actually did get her something - he said he did, multiple times, so she didn’t really know why she was feeling like this. 

Still, she couldn’t stop the smile that crept over her face. She sure was smiling an awful lot today. She still felt somewhat disbelieving that this was where she was right now, and this was the way she was feeling, and what a dramatic shift she had experienced from mere hours ago. 

“What is it?” She was almost embarrassed by the tone of her voice and how much she sounded like an overeager child on Christmas morning. Almost. Mostly, she was just… happy. 

He chuckled, and he was looking at her with so much affection (how did she ever not notice this before? Had she not had eyes in her head at _all_ until today?) but he still looked a bit nervous and that...

That was interesting. _Why_ was he all of a sudden so sheepish and bashful? It made her stomach flutter, again, and a _lot_ , and it wasn’t necessarily bad, it was just...different.

“Just open it and see,” he mumbled out, the shyness in his gaze not lessening in the slightest. Gods, he was so cute. She wondered what he’d say if she told him that - she doubted it was the way he saw himself. Would he be flattered? Or think himself much too manly and strong to be described in such a fashion?

That was a puzzle for another day. For now, she could hardly contain her excitement as she started towards the parcel. She had the brief thought that she should maybe take some care with opening it - that was mature, right? She didn’t need to rip it apart like she was three years old -

Okay, she did though.

Also, it didn’t look like it was very fancy wrap, it was basically _paper_ , and so utilitarian it was actually hilarious the way it clashed with the obscene bow.

She tore at it - she couldn’t help herself, okay?

Her breath caught in her throat as she took in - _fully_ took in what was in front of her. It was a painting, depicting one of her favourite photos (her screensaver on her phone, actually, and how did he know that? Wasn’t he supposed to be oblivious?). It showed her family dog, Nymeria, on the front lawn outside the manor she had grown up in in Winterfell, on a crisp morning after a fresh snowfall. A moment captured… it must be two to three years ago, now, and it wasn’t like she didn’t see it all the time, but this seemed different.

Was she going to cry? She couldn’t cry. He would get confused, and she’d already gone through so many emotions today -

But it was so beautiful. She tried to steady her breathing. She should say something, he had looked so nervous, he was probably waiting for some kind of response, not for her to just stand here focusing on not passing out -

“I, um, I made it. For you.”

Okay, well, she had managed to deduce that much for herself, despite her stunned silence. But - still nice to have confirmation, she supposed. Was her tongue still in her mouth?

Yes, it was. 

Okay, then, logically, she should be able to speak, or, at least, make sounds. She took another deep breath (hopefully the last one of this saga), before she finally managed to get herself remotely together.

“I love it.” And she did. It was beautiful, and sweet, and he _made_ it, just for her.

“Yeah?” He was rubbing the back of his neck. Why did he _still_ look nervous? She _loved_ it. She just told him so. The tips of his ears were red.

“I had no idea you could do anything like this,” she murmured, and she couldn’t keep the awe from her voice if she tried (also, she didn’t try. So. There was that). 

Her praise seemed to make him even more uncomfortable. How strange. She absolutely adored having praise bestowed upon her. He started rambling.

“Yeah, I have - I’ve been taking classes for years. I like it, you know, it’s - it’s calming, and you can do whatever you want, really, and that’s… that’s nice. And I’ve always been good at making things, and - good... with my hands - ” 

“Well, I know _that_.”

“You - what?” 

Gods, did he have no idea about the innuendos he was spewing right now? He couldn’t stand there, right in front of her, in his _bedroom_ , looking like that and talking about being good with his hands and not expecting her mind to go _there_ \- right?

Wrong, apparently.

She watched him finally catch up, and fought down a chuckle at the look on his face when the realization struck him.

His eyes were wide, and the flush had spread from the tips of his ears down his neck and - she wasn’t sure if she had ever seen anything more endearing. 

"You really like it?" He was looking at her so intently she thought she might burst. She still might, really, her heart was thudding almost painfully in her chest and she still had a bit of a lump in her throat but she was so...

She just loved it.

She didn't try to speak again (who knows how long it would take her to come up with something); she just nodded. If she couldn't _tell_ him, necessarily, she could probably show him.

The need she felt to touch him, and hold him, and press herself against him - it should scare her more, probably, how strong it was. It used to.

It didn’t anymore - but she was definitely shit at fighting it. She was under no illusions about her own ability to have any self-control whatsoever.

She reached for him, and their lips met, and -

This must be better than before. It must be. She wasn’t sure if it could be, really, because every other time they had kissed she had had the exact same thought, but… it did seem different, now.

In the best way.

Different because he _knew_ how she felt for him. He knew, and he wasn’t running away, or letting her down gently, or laughing in her face, or any of the other heart wrenching things she could have imagined he would do if he was presented with how she truly felt.

Instead… he felt the same as she did.

And he seemed determined to show her just that, with his lips, and his tongue, and his hands, as he wrapped one around the back of her neck while the other was around her waist, tugging her closer to him.

Had he been trying to show her all along, every time they did this?

The thought sent a thrill down her spine. She was so happy, and she was _so_ excited, and she couldn’t stop the flutter of anticipating that shot through her when she realized that she could _have_ him, now -

She did have him, in some ways, already, and _Gods_ this was the best day ever.

Then suddenly he was pulling away from her, and - what?

He really needed to stop doing things like that. 

Was he confused about what she wanted to get out of this? Was she giving off the wrong signals, here?

He was a little bit breathless.

“So can I - take you out? Proper?” It took her several seconds to register what he was on about. 

“What - now?” She cursed herself. That wasn’t a very enthusiastic response, she had to admit, and she didn’t want him to go and get all confused again, she just had other things she felt like doing _right now_ -

“No,” he chuckled. “What are you doing tomorrow?” She felt a warmth spread through her, and couldn’t stop the smile that was tugging her lips upward. Tomorrow sounded fucking fantastic, actually. 

“I could make time for you,” she smirked. And she was trying to be a little bit coy, she was, but she should know by now that that was always a lost cause around him.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, and bit her lip trying (and failing) to conceal the grin that was now threatening to take over her face.

“Then, it’s a date.” Great. It was settled. 

She grabbed for him -

“So I guess, for now -”

Gods, now what?

He was doing his pained frown again. That was not a good sign. His hands had dropped from her, too.

“We should probably…” He swallowed. He didn’t elaborate.

They should probably… what?

She had a few ideas about what they should _probably_ be doing right now, but based on his tone and body language, he was not exactly on the same page.

“We should… take things… slow. Right?” He seemed to be forcing the words out, but at least he was looking at her again, and his eyes -

Fuck, he just had the _nicest_ eyes. And they were such a deep blue, and he was definitely trying to communicate something to her by the look in them, but as per damn usual, she had no clue what the hell that was. She took her best guess.

“Yeah. ‘S’pose we should,” she let out (with no small amount of remorse - had she not already been patient enough?).

He inhaled slowly, and then he was nodding, and stepping further away from her, and he looked - he looked -

Well, he looked exactly how she felt. She was pretty sure. So then, maybe -

She guessed again.

“Or -” His eyes shot back to hers, and she couldn’t be _positive_ what he was trying to convey this time but he definitely seemed interested in her potential alternative, whatever it may be.

She broke off and swallowed. This was what she wanted, and she knew that, she was absolutely certain, but she still felt... just a little bit shaky. She steadied herself, and tried again.

“Or, we could… not.” There was a split second where he just looked at her, and she thought, maybe, that she had guessed wrong _again_ -

And then - 

“Thank the _Gods_ ,” he muttered, before grabbing for her. She pretty much crashed into him, but she couldn’t be bothered by it, not when his lips were so desperate on hers and his hands were all over her -

And his hands… set her on fire. She didn’t understand how he could feel everywhere at once. 

She wondered if her hands felt the same to him. If he couldn’t _think_ when she was touching him, if he was burning up as much as she was - she wanted him to.

She felt a bit frantic, and like she was probably rushing, and she didn’t know what the hell her big hurry was (it’s not like she had anywhere else to be), but she didn’t slow her desperate hands as they tugged at the bottom of his tee, trying to rid him of it in as little time as possible. 

He seemed to be in just as much of a hurry as she was now that he was finally, _finally_ going along with her plan. He helped her pull his shirt off, separating from her lips only briefly to pull it over his head before crashing back towards her, and really that should be great, only -

She had been rushing back to meet him just as enthusiastically, and - she was pretty sure he hadn’t opened his eyes at all, and that was clearly a safety hazard as their foreheads collided with more force than was at all comfortable (or necessary, really). 

“Ah - fuck -” 

“Gods, I’m sorry - are you -”

They were speaking over each other, awkwardly, now that this collision and slight bodily harm had occurred. She took him in, with his arms still outstretched towards her yet not quite touching her anymore, as if just by putting his hands on her he was worried she might break. He looked flushed, and sheepish, and nervous, and - she was pretty sure she must look the exact same. Their eyes met, and then they were both chuckling, and despite the slight throb above her right eye where she had basically headbutted him - she wasn’t sure if she had ever felt happier.

He was still laughing, a little, when he grabbed her face (gently, thank the Gods), and rubbed his thumbs along her cheekbones, before reaching down and placing the gentlest of kisses on her brow. She didn’t dare move - Gods know she might startle him, or, worse, cause yet another clumsy incident to occur.

“Better?” He asked her, and - why did his voice have to be like that? It was low, and soft, and he was so near, and he was looking at her like - like -

She couldn’t even describe it. _And_ he wasn’t wearing his shirt anymore.

Was she honestly expected to be able to properly function in situations like this? Because, if so, she had a feeling she was going to be failing, over and over and over again, and not caring in the slightest.

His eyes were still raking over her, and it was as though she could _feel_ every inch of his gaze all the way down her body. She felt heat pool in her lower belly as his eyes finally made their way back up to hers, and she could see just how dark they were.

Had they not been the most clear, beautiful shade of blue only a few minutes ago?

Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she couldn’t just stand here for one more minute - not without moving, or touching him, or kissing him, or - _something_.

“ _Much_ better,” she responded, before she reached for him once more. She had a brief instant to wonder if her voice brought out anything close to the reactions in him that his did to her. And then his lips were on hers again, and, not for the first time, she found herself blissfully unable to think about anything at all.

He was slower, gentler, this time, and she melted into him. She ran her hands up and down the broad expanse of his back, subconsciously trying to pull him closer. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and the warmth in her belly spread pleasantly as she opened her mouth to allow him entry. She wanted ( _needed_ ) to be closer to him. She wanted to feel every piece of him.

His hands had shifted from where he had been cupping her face, and he was gripping her waist, and she _loved_ his hands on her, she really did, but - 

She knew, from experience now, how much _more_ she would love it if it wasn’t through the fabric of her t-shirt. Somewhat reluctantly, she tore her hands from his smooth, hot skin and pulled back slightly - just enough so that she could grab the bottom of said offensive t-shirt, and pull it up and over her head. She allowed herself a small moment of celebration that the maneuver was completed without incident. This must be a sign. Today was definitely her day.

Gendry let out a small noise that she couldn’t properly describe - her body didn’t seem to care what it was, anyway. It still sent heat shooting through her, and she could _feel_ the arousal building in her just from the way he was looking at her.

And then it wasn’t just his eyes on her anymore - his hands had followed suit. His lips were back on her, too, sliding down the column of her throat while he grasped her newly bare skin, and she just -

Gods, she was a mess.

Every pass of his mouth on her skin set her on fire. His lips, and teeth, and tongue, were all assaulting her neck - she throbbed between her legs, and couldn’t stop a gasp from escaping when his mouth trailed further down. He nipped at her collarbone, and she shuddered, and he just kept going.

She had on a flimsy bralette, as was her preference, and as his mouth continued, lower and lower down, he roughly tugged the fabric aside until her nipple popped free and he was suckling it into his mouth -

She might as well not have worn anything at all, for all the good it did her. 

He released her, and she thought (naively, apparently) that she might have a moment to recover and gather her wits - she was wrong.

His mouth was back on her almost immediately, his tongue running over her exposed nipple while his left hand kneaded her other breast. She hissed as the cool air hit her skin, now wet from his tongue, and he responded by forcing the other side of her bralette down and out of the way, leaving no part of her remotely modest. His tongue circled her, while his fingers feathered over her other nipple, so gently she thought she might officially lose her fucking mind -

And then he was pinching, and biting, and she wasn’t sure if she even remembered her own name. She let out a desperate sound (words might have been involved, honestly, she really couldn’t say).

“Fuck, you’re so -” He didn’t continue.

She was so what?

She wanted to know.

She glanced down, and - Gods, she looked obscene, with the globes of her breasts escaping the soft fabric, nipples hard and exposed and _wet_ from his tongue, and _fuck_.

She didn’t know why seeing it had to cause such a reaction, but her clit throbbed and she whined and she just needed _more_.

Her hands tangled in his hair, and -

This could not possibly be comfortable for him. She cursed this unwelcome thought as she was really having a perfectly delicious time right now, but he was definitely taller than her, and hunched over, and there was no way they were in the ideal position for this.

She tugged on his hair, attempting to signal to him to stand back up straight. He did not seem to get the memo, and simply groaned before biting down on her once more. Her breath hitched, and a fresh wave of arousal crashed over her, and she could _feel_ how wet she was, and her heart was hammering, and -

She couldn’t take any more of this.

Literally, she was pretty certain her legs would not continue to hold her up.

“Gendry,” she tugged on his hair again, and _finally_ he got the memo. He straightened up, and she could still feel the cold air hitting her where he had basically been devouring her, and her chest was heaving -

“Take me to bed.”

She hadn’t thought his eyes could get any darker, or hungrier -

She was wrong.

But, really... she was more than used to that by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on my bullshit with an increased chapter count for the thousandth time.  
> If y'all want some real smut... better let me know in the comments ;)  
> (yes, this is a bribe; no, I do not care)  
> Thanks for reading and have a delightful day <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know

He picked her up as if she weighed nothing - Gods she just _loved_ how strong he was. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around him.

Her eyes never left his as he walked them towards his bed, before slowly laying her down and settling on top of her. 

His arms bracketed her head, and his hips were slotted perfectly in between hers, and she could feel the hard length of him against her core, pressing insistently and spreading heat through her.

He was still looking at her, his eyes darting back and forth between hers, so dark and hungry and somehow… still reverent and soft. How was he capable of demonstrating so many emotions at one time? 

His tongue darted out to wet his lip, and her stomach clenched remembering how it felt on her pebbled nipples just moments ago. She wanted his tongue on her again - hell, she wanted all of him, on all parts of her, at all times, and - that definitely wasn’t physically possible, but she would try her damn best.

“Are you sure?”

How could she not be? With him hovering over her, looking at her like that, after he wound her up so tight - she _needed_ this. She hoped that would finally sink in for him - she had a slight fear it wouldn’t, and she didn’t know how much more clear she could be.

“How many times are you going to ask me that?” She couldn’t help the teasing lift of her eyebrow. She could see this happening a dozen times today, and it’s not that she didn’t appreciate the thought, but she had made up her mind. She wanted it to happen - and she didn’t want him hesitating, or worrying that she’d changed her mind, or… anything like that.

“Just the one.” The corner of his mouth was pulling up too, and Gods she just loved his fucking crooked smile. He seemed serious, though, and the look in his eye sent a shiver through her. This was her chance, and all she had to do was say the words, and he wasn’t going to hold back. Her breath caught in her chest.

“You promise?”

He nodded.

“I’m sure.”

She was still looking into his eyes (she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to stop) and so she _saw_ the change in him when he let out a breath that she presumed he must have been holding, and then the only thing she could see in his face was _want._

Gods, she could be looked at like this forever. Arousal coursed through her - she wondered if he could see the exact same sentiments all over her features, and if it was driving him as crazy with need as it was her.

It might be, because soon his lips were back on hers, hard and urgent and sending sparks shooting through her. She was thrusting her hips up into his - or he was pressing into her (or maybe they were both doing it)? She couldn’t be sure. All she _could_ be sure of was that the feel of his lips and tongue on her, combined with the delicious friction of his hard cock rubbing against her - Gods, it felt good, but it wasn’t _enough_. She could feel the desperation building in her, and she was almost embarrassed at how little it took for her to be reduced to a pleading, whimpering mess. Almost.

She could feel his bare chest pressed against hers, more of their skin touching than it ever had before. That wasn’t enough either - would she ever have enough of him?

She reached between them as best she could, fumbling with the button at the top of his dark jeans until she managed to pop it undone.

He pulled back from her, and she expected him to finish what she had started and divest himself of the offensive material entirely - but he didn’t.

Instead, he was busying himself with her own pants, and she lifted her hips and wriggled as best she could to help him. As usual, she found herself to be in a great hurry - it could be that she just lacked patience, overall in her life.

Finally she was free, and clad just in her soft cotton thong. Again, she expected him to turn his attention to finishing what she had started on his jeans, and again, he didn’t, choosing instead to lean back over her, and resume kissing her, with his hand back on her breast, and -

Okay, it’s not like this wasn’t nice, but what was he waiting for?

She’d have to find out.

“What are you waiting for?” She managed to gasp out when he had dropped his lips to her jawline and begun to pepper kisses there. Sometimes it wasn’t so bad when her thoughts slipped right out, she supposed. At least she’d get some answers this way.

He looked up at her, surprise clear in his eyes. 

“I just want to... make sure you’re really ready -”

She _was_ ready, she had already told him. She knew he could be thick sometimes, and she knew his blood wasn’t necessarily in his brain right now but come _on_ -

She couldn’t help her eye roll (nor how affectionate she felt doing it - why did he always make her feel like this?).

“Gods, I told you, I’m _sure_ -”

She was planning on telling him just how sure, and if that didn’t work, going into a little more detail about all the things she would like to have happen right now - but he broke her off before she could really get going. 

“That’s not - just… trust me?”

Of _course_ she trusted him - if she didn’t, she certainly wouldn’t be in her current situation. Not to mention the fact that, since this whole thing started, she had definitely been following his lead (she could admit to that, okay), and it’s not like he had led her astray so far. She bit her lip and nodded.

And then his hands were sliding over her, past the dip of her waist and ghosting along her hip bone, teasing at the top of her knickers but seemingly making no move to continue on or remove them. 

She wriggled underneath him and let out a whine - it was never her intention to be so needy, really, but he had to keep _going_ ; she couldn’t think about anything but the pulsing between her legs.

And then finally he was running his hand over her mound, and it sent bolts of electricity shooting through her straight to her toes despite the layer still between them - and his thumb was on her clit, gently rubbing the slowest circles of her fucking life, while one of his fingers dipped into her _through_ the fabric of her knickers, and -

Fuck, she had already been feeling like they were soaked through but there was really no denying it now. He was going so damn slow, and his finger could only enter her shallowly with the obstruction of her stupid thong, and she was pretty sure she was actually being tortured.

She registered that his mouth was on her now, too, as she felt his lips slide down her chest, and then his tongue, and suddenly he was biting the underside of her breast and she couldn’t stop the noises tumbling from her, any more than she could stop the desperate thrusts of her hips as she tried, futilely, to guide his finger into her more deeply. 

He might be trying to kill her, actually. It was not very gentlemanly.

His mouth carried on, and -

Actually, it was a bit of a blessing, because it tickled, a little, when he got near her belly button, and… if she could focus on that, even for a second, maybe she would survive.

She twitched and almost laughed when he got even lower, and this was okay, she was still breathing, she still had a pulse (most definitely, she could feel it fucking thundering), and suddenly his hands were gone from her - okay, she just needed to breathe. She could do this. 

But then -

He was pulling her knickers down, and he was _watching_ her, the whole time, from between her legs, with his eyes dark as she’d ever seen them. He shouldn’t be allowed to look at her like that. It should be illegal, honestly, because it was going to be the absolute death of her, so how was that not a crime?

She was just staring right back, hoping her heart rate would slow at least a _little_ , and wondering what the hell she was supposed to do if the ache between her legs never went away - she realized, belatedly, that she should probably close her mouth. Well, one thing at a time. First she had to get her breathing under control, and when she was no longer basically panting, then she could -

She could -

She couldn’t do fucking anything, actually, because suddenly his mouth was on her, and -

If she had thought that his finger teasing her was going to drive her crazy, it was nothing, _nothing_ , compared to his tongue. He licked all the way up to her clit, and she just -

“ _Oh_ ,” she gasped out, and desperately reached for something to hold onto (she settled on gripping his sheets, they were the closest thing to her and this was an emergency situation). At her reaction, he seemed to -

Was he laughing?

He continued to lap at her and probe her with his tongue, and her lower belly was tightening and she couldn’t be _sure_ but she suspected he was, actually, laughing a bit, and -

Gods, she could kill him. Smug bastard. She -

 _Fuck_.

She came to an abrupt decision, as he pressed a long finger into her and sucked her clit into his mouth -

He could be as smug as he wanted, she could not care in the slightest, not when…

She couldn’t even think.

She didn’t know what he was doing, and she didn’t care, all she knew was that _nothing_ had ever felt like this. 

She glanced down at him, thinking maybe it would help her get her bearings -

That was a mistake.

Because he was still looking at her, with his eyes black as night, as his tongue danced over her clit and he thrusted two fingers inside her, and… she let out a pitiful whimper.

She might die like this. She could, and she didn’t think she would even care. She kept watching him. She wanted this image burned into her brain. The more she watched, the faster his tongue seemed to move, and the more her stomach tightened -

She was so close, she knew she was, and she needed…

He pressed a third finger into her, gently, and -

Gods, _shit_ , why was she ever thinking she was full, before? She hadn’t been, there was no way, but she might be, now, because she could feel his fingers fucking _everywhere_.

Everything was magnified, and he was working them so diligently inside her, and every so often he would curl them _up_ , just a little, and -

Her eyes may have rolled back inside her head, and she clamped them shut.

She grasped his hair, and fuck, she was completely out of control. Her breathing was shallow, and she was desperately trying to pull him closer, and -

“Fuck, I - I’m -” She didn’t even know what she was trying to say.

He was sucking on her clit, again, and his fingers had sped up -

And then she felt as if every part of her had snapped, and her back arched off the bed and she was pretty sure her scream was silent, hopefully, but she couldn’t be sure of anything at this point.

Eventually she registered that Gendry was kissing her gently on the inside of her thigh, and she was trembling, and her heart was hammering beyond belief.

Would she ever catch her breath? Did she even want to? 

Gods, he made her feel fucking incredible. She wasn’t sure if anything would ever compare to that feeling, of coming apart beneath him. She felt so -

She didn’t even know.

It was good, though.

She wanted him to feel it too.

This determination brought on some renewed vigour, and she sat up and reached for him, determinedly getting back to her long-forgotten task of removing his jeans. His button was still open, from where she had gotten started earlier, and the zipper was starting to come down, and she could _see_ how he was straining against it -

She felt like her mouth was actually watering and _Gods_ she never would have expected herself to be such a heathen.

She brought her hands to the zipper, and this time she managed to make more progress. Soon his pants were sliding off his hips, and he rolled off of her to finish the job himself. Then he was laying beside her, with so little on, and she just -

She wanted to touch him. She wanted to make him shake, and tremble, and curse, like he had done to her. She thought she might know a way.

She felt a little nervous, never having done this before, but… if it was anything like bringing him pleasure with her hands, she figured she’d be a fairly quick study.

But how to start?

She dragged her fingernails up his thigh, revelling at the way his breath hitched as she got to the bottom of his briefs.

How had _he_ started?

He’d - well he had kissed her, all the way down, and that seemed like… that would be a good way to kick things off. It had certainly worked for her. She might as well do the same - no need to reinvent the wheel, here.

She kissed him lightly, on the mouth, before slowly making her way to his neck. Her hand was resting on his bare chest, and she could feel his heart racing beneath her palm - it sent a thrill through her, and she carried on.

She didn’t make it far.

She had been making her way, enjoying the little sounds he’d make and the way he tried to keep his breathing steady, but she hadn’t even gotten partway down his chest before his hands shot out to her shoulders, holding her in place, while the rest of him froze -

“What’re you doing?” He sounded… a bit panicked, actually, and that wasn’t the vibe she was going for. She had thought, also, that her intentions were fairly clear - was he _sure_ he was the one with experience in these matters?

“I just - I thought I could - return the favour?” She didn’t really intend for it to sound like a question, that definitely took a bit of the sexiness out of it. She wished she was just a little more confident, and she could just _go_ for it, and not second-guess herself like she so often did.

“No, no - it’s fine, really, if you don’t -”

What?

She faltered, and her insecurity grew - along with her confusion.

“Do you not… you don’t… like that?” There was no way. Okay, she did understand that guys and girls were different, obviously, and every _person_ was different, but -

There was _no way_ that his mouth on her could feel like that, but hers on him could be… undesirable. Right?

“Fuck, it’s not that, it’s just...”

He seemed to be pleading with her, and the look in his eyes was wild and a bit desperate, and - really, though, why was he so against this? She hadn’t expected to encounter much (okay, any) resistance. He didn’t seem like he wanted to tell her.

And she knew he was stubborn, but so was she, and he might not want to tell her but she sure as hell wanted to know.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

He exhaled through his nose and flopped down onto his back beside her.

“Gods, I just - I won’t last as it is, I don’t think, okay? Your mouth anywhere near my cock is the _last_ thing I need -”

He was muttering the words out, and staring at the ceiling, and…

His words shot sparks all the way to the tips of her toes, and she took a brief moment to wonder if there was actually something wrong with her.

How could _everything_ he said just… do it for her? Why did his words have to affect her like this? He definitely didn't seem like that was his intention; he looked like he was trying to melt the paint off the ceiling with just the force of his eyes, but she just…

Gods, she loved the thought of him feeling like he wasn’t in control around her. Like he couldn’t keep it together, despite his best efforts, and he couldn’t _handle_ it if she took him in her mouth -

Fuck, it just made her feel… incredible. And irresistible, and wanted, and she hoped it _never_ changed. He didn’t seem to have any idea the effect his words were having on her, still laying on his back trying, she assumed, to get a handle on himself -

She didn’t really want him to have a handle on himself, honestly.

She could care less how long he lasted, he had already made her feel _so_ fucking good, and besides, she didn’t know what having his cock in her would feel like anyway. Maybe she wouldn’t want it in there too long, this first time, for all she knew. Was that a thing? Like, baby steps? A short shift, for the first one?

She supposed, as she took in the definition of his solid chest, and the ridges of his abs, and finally the bulge straining against the tight briefs he still had on - she would just _have_ to find out for herself.

Right now. There was really no other way to know.

Determinedly, she straddled him, shuddering at the feel of his hardness against her slick folds. She had thought, maybe, that after her release she would be able to keep her head on straight a little bit - that was seeming like a bit of an inaccurate assumption, at this point.

She had felt sated, and satisfied, and pleasantly boneless… but that was a few minutes ago. How had things changed so drastically since then? Now, she just felt… sensitive. In the best way, like the smallest, lightest touch could overwhelm her.

She placed a hand on either side of his head, and leaned down so her lips were by his ear (and if she happened to grind down on him at the same time, making him groan and her own breath hitch, it was completely out of her control. _Really_ ). 

“Next time, then,” was all she whispered to him, and it thrilled her that she could feel so confident in ‘next time’. Because there would be a next time, and another time after that, and after that, and they had all the time in the world, really, to try all sorts of different things. The thought spread a warmth through her, different than the heat that was building between her legs, certainly, but no less pleasant. It seemed to magnify it, if anything.

And then she was kissing him, and his palms were on her ass and he was grinding her down into him in a steady rhythm that was driving her crazy, and then -

She couldn’t wait anymore. This felt good, too good, almost, and she just couldn’t _wait_. She pulled away from him, and reluctantly tore herself from where she had been determinedly rubbing herself against him (pretty shamelessly, if she was being honest).

She tugged at the top of his briefs, and he lifted his hips and reached down to help her, and -

Fuck, she had kind of blocked out the fact that that was supposed to actually fit inside her.

It had to, though, right?

People had sex all the time. It’s not like this was some unachievable feat. Still…

She looked at the length of him, and all his smooth skin, and even though she had seen him before it still seemed like… this was the first time. She wondered if that would ever go away, or if the sight of him bare before her would always make her heart hammer and her stomach leap.

While she pondered these important questions, he reached beside him and fumbled in his desk drawer before pulling out a condom - and she faltered just a little bit, _again_ , and she wished she didn’t, but… she couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen.

“You’re very prepared, I see. That’s good. Responsible. That’s really important, you know, to be prepared for situations like this, because -”

“Arya.” Thank the fucking Gods he interrupted her, because she hadn’t the slightest clue where she was going with this as more and more words seemed to fall out of her mouth. All she knew was that this was it, and this was the moment, and there was no turning back -

And that wasn’t a bad thing.

It was a _new_ thing, though, and it was no secret that she tended to… start to think, a bit (okay, way too much), when she found herself in a… new situation.

She bit her lip, and took a deep breath, and she met his eyes, and -

Gods, she was so done for. He was looking at her so fucking soft and gentle, like he always seemed to, and she _knew_ -

She knew she could turn back, right now, and rightfully earn herself the title of most gigantic tease of all time, and…

He wouldn’t hold it against her. Because he cared about her, and how she felt, and he wanted her to be ready, he said that so many times.

And that, more than anything, was what helped get her nerves under control.

She had _nothing_ to be scared of. What did she really think was going to happen? He wouldn’t hurt her, and he wouldn’t be upset with her, or disappointed in her, or… anything, really.

He just wanted to be with her.

And that’s what she wanted too, it’s what she had _been_ wanting, for so long, longer than she could properly recognize, even now.

“Are you -”

She knew where he was going, and she cut him off.

“Eh! You promised. You promised you’d only ask one time.” But she was grinning, now, she couldn’t help it, and the concerned look on his face seemed to melt away until he was giving her a little crooked smile and his eyes were crinkled at the corners, and -

She wanted him, truly, _all_ of him, his body and his heart and all his soft looks and all his crooked smiles - and she wouldn’t settle for anything less.

And when he reached up to kiss her, and caress the back of her neck, cradling her head like she was the most precious thing he’d ever touched - she didn’t have any more doubts, or nervousness, or shyness, or… anything.

She just wanted to share this with him, she wanted to have him as close as he could possibly get, and she wasn’t going to hold anything back.

Not now.

She nipped at his bottom lip, lightly, and he hissed, and the sound sent a shock of arousal straight to her clit, reminding her just how much she wanted, needed, to be touched, filled, taken to the brink and pushed over the edge -

His hand had left her head, and she realized, belatedly, that he was ripping the package open, and rolling it down his length - should she be doing this? The thought flashed through her mind. She _should_ probably be doing it, that would have been more seductive, she should have grabbed it and smiled at him and done it herself -

Oh, well.

Too late now.

He reached for her, and then his hands were on her hips guiding her closer to him, gently, before his lips were back on her chest peppering light kisses everywhere he could reach. 

His right hand shifted, and before she knew it it was back between her legs, his fingers sliding through the wetness that had gathered there.

She wondered, hazily, if it was still there from before, or if she was already this wound up again. He pressed into her clit, and her eyelids fluttered shut, and her breath caught in her throat, and -

Okay, she was definitely right back where she had started. All her suspicions that she may never be satisfied were proving to be slightly alarmingly accurate.

His mouth was back on her nipple, torturing her, while his fingers worked at her sex, and -

Gods, she really had just been incredibly greedy throughout this entire process.

The thought flitted through her cloudy mind that she had barely done anything for him, hardly touched him at all, and he just gave, and gave, and gave, and...

She hoped this was worth his while, when it finally happened. And she was _ready_ for it to finally happen.

“Now,” she breathed out, and hoped, with everything in her, that he would understand what she was saying (for once), and she wouldn’t have to elaborate -

He knew. She could tell, from the desperate sound that escaped him, sending vibrations through her where his mouth was still working at her breast.

And then his hand had disappeared from between her legs, and even though it was at her behest, she still wanted to whimper at the loss.

Until…

His hands were back on her hips, and he was guiding her down onto him, slowly, until the tip of him brushed against her. Her breath caught in her throat at the sensation. She pressed down onto him, just a little bit harder, and -

Okay, he was definitely inside her now, at least a little bit, she could _feel_ it, and it was different than anything from before. Her heart hammered, and she willed herself to keep breathing. 

She pressed down a bit further, and her breath hitched as she took in the stretch she was feeling. It wasn’t bad, really - a bit different, for sure, but… different could be good.

She made to re-adjust, thinking it might make her a bit more comfortable, but it caused her to rise up a bit and all of a sudden she was almost completely off of him - she was about to make a noise of despair (all that progress she had just made, lost in an instant), but she was distracted by Gendry.

Because he was there, beneath her, and her slight movement was making him clench his eyes shut while his fingers dug into her hips, and some muttered words were falling from his lips, and -

Seeing him like that made her throb, and she lowered herself back down onto him, as far as she had been before (maybe further, even - she had no idea, okay?). She wondered if anyone in history had ever done this so slowly. The thought almost made her snort with laughter, and she tried to hold it in as best she could. She didn’t want Gendry to think she was laughing at _him_ , now did she?

Her brief distraction had actually helped her, though - she hadn’t been thinking so hard, about how much of him she had been able to take in so far, and how much further she had to go, and wondering when/if she was going to experience terrible discomfort.

She didn’t feel _that_ uncomfortable at all, actually.

She continued to lower herself down (still at her same excruciatingly slow pace - was this at all pleasant for him or was he just being tortured?) and the stretching feeling from before was definitely still there, and it definitely wasn’t something she was about to just _ignore_ , but…

It wasn’t the worst thing, either, and when it was paired with the image below her, of Gendry with his brow furrowed, and his stomach muscles clenching, and his lips parted -

She could get used to this, actually.

She willed herself to keep her breathing steady, and to stay as relaxed as possible, because she could do this, for sure she could.

Just as she was beginning to wonder just _how_ much more she could possibly have to take in (she didn’t want to try and _look_ \- every time she had done that so far today, it had meant her undoing in some way or another) - there was nowhere else to go.

“I did it!” The words had escaped her before she had a chance to even realize what was happening.

But hey, it’s not like she wasn’t proud of herself. This hadn’t exactly been the easiest of tasks; it had definitely required some focus and a great many deep breathing exercises, but she had completed it, and there was nothing wrong with acknowledging that with a little celebration, was there?

Her hands were splayed across his chest, and she felt the little tremors as he let out a choked laugh, eyes still clamped shut.

“Are you good?” The words seemed to cause him a great deal of effort.

She herself was actually feeling pretty fine - full, definitely (for sure, this time, because _this_ was not the same as any fingers, no matter how big or how many), and it was different, but…

Honestly, it looked like he was having a way harder time of things than she was.

“I’m good,” she grinned. Because she _was_. She could hear the happiness shining through her own voice - she almost wanted to roll her eyes at herself, for how exhilarated she was, but -

She didn’t really care.

She was still smiling, a bit, when she shifted her hips experimentally. Just a little, just to see -

His breathing seemed to falter, and his fingers dug into her even deeper, and -

He was at her mercy, like this, it seemed. The thought spread heat through her.

“Are _you_ good?” She could not keep the glee out of her voice, and maybe that was a little bit evil, when he was trying so hard - it’s not like he didn’t deserve it, though. He had _laughed_ going down on her - it was a taste of his own medicine, and she knew, having been in his place not too long ago, that he wouldn’t actually mind. She felt giddy.

She shifted again, raising herself higher this time, before sliding back down -

“Yes," and of course he couldn't just say it, it was definitely a moan, and _fuck_ \- the sound ripped right through her, and her stomach clenched, and then the rest of her clenched, too, all around him, and -

Oh.

She had a second to wonder if she should have taken advantage just a little bit more, of the brief moment she had where she was in control and he was decidedly not -

Because she couldn’t help but feel like that would quickly no longer be the case.

Moving like that hadn't been all that uncomfortable, really, so…

She repeated her actions.

Fuck, she loved watching him - every move she made seemed to pull a reaction out of him, making her walls pulse around him.

She was fairly certain she wasn’t actually moving much - she kept him almost all the way inside her, pulling away just enough so she could rock back against him. For the amount of physical exertion she was putting out (or lack thereof), her breathing really ought to be more steady.

It felt… good, though. In a different way, in a way that she couldn’t describe -

He surprised her, then, and all of a sudden he was sitting up, and his lips were on her neck, and he was sucking and biting, and without thinking she shifted her hips down onto him again, and -

Something about the way he was sitting, now, and the way she had moved - her clit brushed against him, and she gasped as she clutched his broad shoulders for purchase. She did it again, more urgently, this time, and she supposed his hand must have shifted, at some point, because now it was on her ass and his fingers were digging into her, trying to pull her even closer (she was pretty sure).

She could hear his laboured breathing, and... he definitely had the right idea, pulling her in - she wanted to feel closer to him than she already did (if that was even possible).

She continued to thrust against him, and she couldn’t say when it had started but it registered somewhere in the back of her mind that she was making little noises again - she felt dazed, almost, and as if she wasn’t in control of her body in the slightest.

His hand on her ass was guiding her more insistently, now, pressing her against him with more pressure, but she still wanted to be closer, she -

She didn’t know what she wanted, or needed, only that too much was happening at once, as she felt the stretch of him, hot inside her, and the maddening brush of her clit against him, and his mouth and teeth in the hollow of her throat -

She was gasping against him, and his hands seemed to be everywhere, and she could feel the familiar tightening of her belly, and the pounding of her heartbeat -

“Shit -”

His hands froze on her, and his hips jerked up, surprising her, and… he was still holding her close, tightly to him, and she could feel his short breaths tickling her neck where her heart was racing.

Did that mean it was over?

She didn’t want to stop, though, so she figured she might as well carry on. He felt just the same inside of her, and she had been racing towards something, and she needed to get there -

“Fuck, I’m sorry -”

Okay, he was done (she had been pretty sure, before, but that did help to confirm things), but she was still rocking against him, and he twitched inside of her, and it made her lower belly jerk -

“I don’t care.”

And she meant for it to sound reassuring, really, but it came out a lot more breathy than she wanted, and she kind of just sounded desperate, but -

Fuck it.

Her words seemed to revive him somewhat, and his lips were back on her, trailing kisses down between her breasts, and the hand that was firmly gripping her ass was helping her along, again, and she wasn’t stopping, she couldn’t.

His tongue flicked over her nipple, and she let out whimper, and her belly felt like it was full of hot molten liquid and her heart was pounding, pounding, pounding -

She continued to grind herself against him, and she just needed more, she needed -

Fuck, she knew what she needed, what the hell was she doing?

She reached between them, and she rubbed her clit, and - her head dropped back in pleasure, and his mouth was still on her nipple, and when he bit down on her -

She fell apart around him, and she was shuddering, and she had no idea what sounds she had been making but she was aware enough to know that she definitely had not been anything close to quiet.

She reached for him, and clutched the back of his head, where he was still nestled between her breasts, giving her gentle kisses and rubbing her back, and - she tried to catch her breath.

“You still good?” He asked, his voice muffled slightly from her chest (where he seemed content to remain for the rest of his days - she wasn’t going to complain).

She was literally still twitching and could barely breathe - was he really worried about her right now?

“What do you think?” She let out a breathless chuckle, and finally he raised his head enough to meet her eyes, and she couldn’t help the swoop in her stomach at his expression.

He looked happy.

Content, and a bit shy, and a bit hopeful - Gods, he was so damn cute. 

He kept rubbing her back, and she felt so deliciously boneless - did she ever have to move? Could she just stay right where she was forever?

The answer was no - she was brought back to reality as her stomach grumbled obnoxiously loudly (it was actually pretty aggressive, and not exactly cute - oh well). When was the last time she had properly eaten?

“I think m’lady needs to be fed. What’ll it be? I can make you… instant noodles? Frozen pizza?” She couldn’t answer, she was too giddy, and her smile was too big, she couldn’t form any words -

“That’s all I got, if you’re wanting a chef you’re gonna have to pry Hot Pie away from -“

She cut him off with a kiss, and reluctantly got off of him (she thought back to when she wasn't sure if she would actually want his cock in her for long - that was wrong, no surprise), flopping down onto the bed on his right side. 

“Noodles, definitely.”

He didn’t waste any time - before she knew it, he was sitting up with his back to her, presumably doing… whatever guys did with condoms. 

She herself felt content to just lay there for the time being. She still felt like her heartbeat was all over her body, and she was tingly everywhere, and there was an ache between her legs that wasn’t exactly pleasant but somehow she didn’t mind it all the same.

But she didn’t feel… _different_ , really. Not in any monumental, fundamental way. She felt close to Gendry, certainly, but - she didn’t think it was any different than if she would have stopped him, or they would have done something else. No matter what physical acts had actually transpired, she had already let him in (ages ago) - she’d been long gone way before this had actually happened. 

She was glad it happened when it did though - when she knew where he stood, and he knew the same for her. It made it better - for both of them (and she felt sure of that, for once. It was nice, feeling sure. She liked it). 

But mostly - she was glad it was him. And maybe she was just hazy, laying here in the afterglow, but… she couldn’t have imagined it being with anyone else. 

She smiled to herself. 

The object of her musings was tugging on a pair of sweats, before looking for all the world like he was ready to leave - okay, so was he just… not going to wear shirts anymore? Around the house? Ever? Was that something that went along with this whole ‘dating’ thing?

She couldn’t help the slight raise of her eyebrow as she took in his torso, and his shoulders, and his stupid arms -

Gods, they should have been doing this all along. She really was an idiot. She didn’t feel like getting dressed herself, not at all, but she figured it was a responsible idea, if she was planning on ever leaving his room (that was still up in the air, though, honestly). She had no intentions of scarring Hot Pie any more than she already had by wandering around their place starkers. 

It seemed that Gendry had read her mind, as he tossed her one of his hoodies.

She blinked at him.

“If you wanted something to wear. I know you like - big things -”

She felt her eyebrow raise of its own accord - why was she never in control of her own functions? It was worth it, though, to see the flush down his neck as he realized what he had said, and then he was running a hand through his hair, and muttering out something that sounded like “For fuck’s sake,” and she couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her chest. 

She tugged it over his head and she couldn’t stop herself from lunging at him, and wrapping her arms around his midsection. It _was_ big on her, reaching her mid-thigh, and the sleeves completely covered her hands, and it smelled like him, and -

If he thought he was ever getting this back, he was out of his Gods damn mind.

“I _do_ like big things,” she whispered at him, and this time, thankfully, she did manage to stifle her laugh at the little groan he made. He was _so_ fun to tease. She couldn’t get distracted though - if he kept making noises like that, she was likely to completely lose her head yet again, and who _knows_ when she would ever get a chance to eat if that happened?

Her life was finally in a good place - she had no intentions of starving to death.

She grabbed him by the arm, not bothering to tamp down the grin that was taking over her face.

“Come on. You said you’d feed me.”

And then she was tugging him along (this felt awfully familiar), and he was grumbling, something that sounded a lot like how she would be the death of him, and she didn’t know why that made her heart swell (it wasn’t even a compliment, technically), but she was just…

She was so happy.

And when she dragged him to the kitchen, and he cooked for her (she is using this term very loosely, but, it’s the thought that counts), bare-chested and with his hair sticking up in all different directions, she felt the same stirring in her lower belly that she was now much, _much_ too familiar with.

It exhilarated her beyond belief, though, that he was right there with her - and he was, he made it crystal clear, after he set the bowl down in front of her, and made to embrace her from behind, trailing kisses behind her ear, and pressing himself against her -

She shivered.

Gods, they were really going to need to set some boundaries here. For Hot Pie’s sake. She had a sneaking suspicion that things could get out of hand extremely quickly, already, and this was… 

This was just the first day.

They hadn’t even had their first date yet, technically. She had so much to look forward to, still - the thought bloomed pleasantly in her chest, spreading warmth through her. 

Things were only going to get better from here. 

She couldn’t fucking wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gentle with me I don't know what I'm doing
> 
> Also if you have ever written Gendrya smut, EVER, I have probably read it, and it probably inspired parts of this, so thank you to every single one of you out there!!
> 
> And of course thank you to everyone who has read this so far and left comments and kudos and given me their thoughts, it has helped me so much and made everything so much fun! Our journey is almost at an end :'(


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what this is I blacked out

The end of April brought with it the end of the semester, and inevitably, a changing of the seasons. If you will. Hot Pie’s life had just been settling into a somewhat regular routine. Of course this would happen now, when him and his roommates had finally gotten everything figured out.

He watched Arya and Gendry packing up the last of her boxes, of random things of hers that had accumulated in the living room, and sighed to himself. Actually - it looked like Gendry was the only one doing any packing. Arya was standing on the couch, declaring things and making announcements.

How did she get away with this?

It was only her stuff that needed packing in the first place. This seemed backwards.

Hot Pie leaned against the door in the entryway, holding it open to allow his younger sister Alice to pass. She was carrying her _own_ boxes. Because it was her own stuff. Well, she was carrying some of them, at least. It’s not like Hot Pie wasn’t helping, a bit (carrying things wasn’t exactly his forte).

Spring semester had come to an end, and Arya was going home to Winterfell for the summer. Hot Pie wasn’t sure how he felt about it, to be perfectly honest. Him and Gendry would be staying here - neither of them really had a reason to relocate for four short months. 

Hot Pie’s sister would be taking Arya’s room, and while there were definitely some perks to this, there was at least one glaring obstacle that he could foresee, as well.

Perk #1. That room would actually get used. It seemed a waste, to Hot Pie, to have a three bedroom apartment when only two were ever being slept in these days.

Perk #2. The probability of Hot Pie walking in on any more scarring situations involving his two best friends would be greatly reduced once one of them left the premises for an extended period of time.

Perk #3. He could keep an eye on Alice. Boys were always sniffing around her. This way he could make sure no funny business was going on.

And yet… he couldn’t ignore the drawbacks. Gendry’s mood being the main one. He hadn’t seen Gendry live in an Arya-free world since… well, since Winter break, and that one was much shorter. And they weren’t even together, and Gendry was _still_ a gloomy prick the majority of the time. Hot Pie’s family lived only an hour away, so he had spent most of his Winter break at the flat with Gendry. This provided him with a not-entirely-promising preview into what his summer might be like.

_Hot Pie had the sneaking suspicion that Gendry didn’t have anywhere else to go over the holiday, or anybody else to see. He’d invited him to stay with his own family, if he wanted, just in case - unfortunately, this seemed to make Gendry immensely uncomfortable, so he had dropped the subject. Gendry’s attitude only worsened as the days went on - he could really be a bit grim, despite the soft inside that Hot Pie_ **_knew_ ** _was in there._

_He was determined to cheer him up as best he could. Typically, he would count on Arya for this, but as she had abandoned him, he’d have to make do on his own. He didn’t think it would work quite as well… and he had a sneaking suspicion as to why, but he really needed to find out for sure._

_(Okay, he already knew for sure. He had_ **_seen_ ** _Gendry at Thanksgiving, laying beside Arya, looking at her like he was a starving man and she was a roasted honeyed ham -)_

_Okay, that wasn’t the best analogy, but -_

_He was pretty hungry, actually._

_Better fix a snack._

_Point is - he’s not a moron. Gendry was always smiling at her, too, and he should realize how obvious he was when he literally never smiled otherwise. But still - he wanted to hear it for himself (and yes, he wanted some details, okay, sue him)._

_He figured the best way was to butter him up first (literally, yes, there was a ton of butter in the dish he made them that night), and then after that, he was suggesting they have a few beers. A little truth juice._

_Once they’d had a couple, and Gendry was starting to seem a bit more relaxed, Hot Pie figured his moment had come._

_“So. Gendry. My friend. What are you gonna do about Arya?”_

_At the mention of her name, Gendry perked up, and his face broke into a smile._

_“Arya?” Gods, maybe he should have started this a little bit sooner - Gendry might be a bit too far gone to even follow the conversation, at this point. That would be a terrible waste of beer. He tried to salvage things. He’d just have to be straight to the point. Gendry was not going to pick up on any subtleties right now (or ever, really)._

_“Yes, Arya. And how you’re in love with her, and all.”_

_Gendry’s eyes widened, and he swivelled his head around in a panic, wildly gesturing to Hot Pie to be quiet._

_“She’s… not here, man, remember?”_

_Gods, Gendry was worse at holding his liquor than he was. It was actually a bit hilarious. Hot Pie watched as his face fell, and he felt a little bad for delivering this crushing blow to him._

_Not that bad, though. Not bad enough to put the brakes on the conversation, at least. He noticed Gendry had made no move to deny his claims - that was good. So he had accepted it. That was great news._

_“Look, don’t worry, okay?” The words had the slightest slur to them - was he thirteen?_

_Then Gendry’s words registered with Hot Pie, and he blinked. He was not worried. Or, he hadn’t been - should he be? No - Gendry had just said he didn’t need to worry. He probably had a plan. Hot Pie knew Gendry wasn’t the best ‘people person’, but he probably knew how to get girls, if he tried. He probably didn’t even have to try, at all, really. Hot Pie felt very reassured, and his face broke out into a grin._

_“I’m not worried!” Oh, this was going to be so delightful. His two favourite people, falling in love right in front of him!_

_Gendry muttered something else - he thought he heard ‘get over it’ but that obviously didn’t make sense. Hot Pie sighed happily. This was the beginning of a beautiful love story, he could just tell, and they were going to be so happy together._

_He couldn’t wait for Arya to get back so Gendry could make his move._

Hot Pie pulled himself from his musings. That hadn’t been _so_ terrible, he supposed. Gendry had definitely been a bit mopey, and a bit grumpy, and he had clearly missed Arya, but… they had experienced worse times, even when Arya _was_ living with them.

For instance, when she returned from said cursed break, and Gendry proved that he actually had _no_ idea how to get the girl he wanted. Not in the slightest.

That had been a low point.

_“So, do you have any kind of plan, here… at all?”_

_Gendry blinked up at him._

_“I - no?”_

_Hot Pie sighed internally. Gendry was as oblivious as they came - and this was not news to him. He clearly was not going to be able to rely on nuance, here._

_“I heard you had a girl over.” Hot Pie tried to keep the disapproving tone out of his voice (he was going for more of a comforting, therapist vibe - he’s not sure he succeeded). He didn’t want to come off to judge-y - then Gendry definitely wouldn’t keep him in the loop of any new developments._

_“Yeah, maybe. So?” He was bristling. Gendry clearly didn’t like where this was going. Well, that was too bad - Hot Pie was on a mission, here, and he refused to be intimidated._

_“_ **_So_ ** _, I thought you liked Arya.” Gendry’s face darkened and his jaw was clenched._

_“Yeah, well, I figured I’d better... stop.”_

_Oh, no._

_Oh, he forgot Gendry was an idiot. How had Hot Pie not seen this coming?_

_“And how’s that going?”_

_Gendry did not dignify this with a response, choosing instead to glare at his lunch (which, Hot Pie would just like to point out,_ **_he_ ** _had made - he wasn’t seeing much gratitude, here). He plowed ahead, despite Gendry’s obvious lack of enthusiasm for this conversation._

_“I’m no expert, mate, but do you see what I mean? About needing a plan?”_

_Gendry threw up his hands in exasperation._

_“Alright, Romeo, what would you suggest?”_

_Ah, perfect. Finally, some acknowledgement that he, Hot Pie, was the only one around here having any romantic success - and he would gladly share his knowledge with poor Gendry._

_“Tell her.” Obviously._

_“She won’t even talk to me.”_

_Hot Pie fought down the urge to turn his eyes skyward. Did Gendry think he was going to land his dream girl with that kind of attitude? Where was the effort?_

_“Have you_ **_tried_** _?” He knew he hadn’t. It was confirmed, though, when Gendry merely ground his teeth together, rather than answering him._

_Hot Pie clapped him on the shoulder._

_“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”_

_Gods, they would be so lost without him._

Nothing could have prepared him for the absurdity that followed. When he had returned home on that fateful Friday night, with the worst possible timing, and found them _together_ , he really thought they had finally figured everything out.

He was so naive, apparently. That was an even _lower_ point.

_Arya, in no uncertain terms, fled the scene, leaving Gendry as the only one he could rely on for a little insight into the what the actual fuck was going on here._

_“So you… didn’t talk?”_

_“Not really.”_

_“You said you’d tell her.”_

_“Gods, I_ **_know_ ** _that, Hot Pie, but things are a little fucking complicated, okay -”_

_“They’re actually not, if you would quit being so…”_

_“Look, you weren’t here - she surprised me, alright, I didn’t get a chance -”_

_“So you will, then? As soon as you get a chance?”_

_Gendry’s mouth was in a hard line. He did not respond._

_Gods, he was being so useless right now. Why were they making this so hard for themselves?_

_“I figured this was common sense but since there doesn’t seem to be a lot of that going around right now, just know - if you stick it in her without telling her what’s really going on, you are a Gods-damned moron.”_

_He somewhat regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but - it’s not like they weren’t true. Gendry probably wouldn’t have known, either, without him saying it. It sure wasn’t easy being the voice of reason._

_“Thanks for that, really.” Gendry’s tone and expression were not necessarily one of gratitude. Hot Pie bristled more at this - could he really not see that he was trying to help? That he just wanted the best for them? And this was after they chose to do Gods-knows-what in the middle of his counter - that would need to be addressed. If now was the time to air his grievances, he may as well let them all out at once._

_“And keep it in your pants in the kitchen, please, for the love of Gods. This is my happy place.”_

_At that, Gendry stormed off, muttering under his breath. The back of his neck was red. Hot Pie wondered, briefly, if he had been too harsh - he didn’t want to be the cause of any bad vibes or negativity in their home._

_He couldn’t help it, though, when they were being such idiots. And they had crushed his hopes; when he first came in, and saw them together, and thought everything had fallen into place… he really had been happy for them._

_Why did he keep forgetting that they were both useless at love?_

_Not everyone could have it as simple as him, he supposed._

_He sighed to himself. He might be in for a long, bumpy ride._

The sound of Arya’s shrieking laugh broke him out of his reverie, as he set a box down outside what was, until today, her bedroom. Despite all the trauma they had put him through, he had to admit that it never ceased to bring a smile to his face when he saw them together.

Arya laughed more than she used to (and it’s not like she didn’t used to laugh quite a bit), while Gendry… Gendry actually smiled. Overall, it was a huge improvement. They were both better off for it.

He wandered back into the hall, ready to grab the next box. He was nothing if not a gentleman, really. He wondered if all this box-lifting was having an impact on his arms. It probably was. He couldn’t wait to show Maggie. He’d have to make sure to lift something in front of her, next time he saw her.

Gendry appeared to have stopped packing, and was holding something above Arya’s head. That really wasn’t nice - he knew she didn’t like being so short. Although - she didn’t seem to mind too much, in this particular situation. Girls _could_ be confusing, he supposed.

“They’re _so_ cute,” Alice giggled, as Arya attempted to clamber onto Gendry’s back in an effort to reach whatever he was tormenting her with.

“It’s so romantic that they ended up living together, and met right here, and fell in love! You must have just _loved_ watching it all happen! Like a romantic movie, come to life, right in front of you!” She sighed happily, before tearing her gaze away and positively skipping down the hall.

Hot Pie wanted to agree. He _had_ enjoyed it, he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t, but… the whole thing had really been quite dramatic. They had caused him quite a bit of a headache, honestly. And one good flan. No matter how cute they seemed now, he wasn’t about to just forget about _that_.

_Sansa Stark: SOS_

_Hot Pie blinked down at his phone in confusion. Him and Sansa had texted briefly, in the past, mainly regarding Arya’s birthday dinner - this must not be for him._

_He shrugged, and went back to his flan._

_Sansa Stark: ???_

_He sighed. Okay, it probably wasn’t polite to ignore something as dramatic as ‘SOS’, wrong number or not._

_He figured he should help her get back on track, so she could find the right person to assist her in her time of need._

_Hot Pie: this is hot pie_

_That should do it._

_Sansa Stark: I know that????_

_She - oh. So this was for him? He didn’t really have time to be involved in an emergency right now. As previously mentioned, he was elbows deep in a flan, here. And a flan waits for no man._

_Sansa Stark: Arya spent the night here_

_Sansa Stark: She is a mess_

_Sansa Stark: Have you seen Gendry?_

_Oh. Fuck. This did not sound promising. Not in the slightest. What could these idiots have gotten themselves into now? He couldn’t even imagine, really. The possibilities were endless. But he had just spoken to Gendry, about Arya, in great detail, not too long ago - and he had seemed… in better spirits than usual._

_How could they already have managed to implode since then? Now, Sansa had his attention. He was worried about them. That’s all. He didn’t desperately need to know all of the details, or anything. Really. He better ask, though, just to make sure he had the full story, and a well-rounded view of the situation -_

_Hot Pie: oh no_

_Hot Pie: I haven’t seen him_

_Hot Pie: what have they done now_

_He figured Sansa must have some more insight than he did. He hadn’t even known that Arya wasn’t here - he had been quite wrapped up in things with Maggie lately. He couldn’t exactly be blamed, though, really, when she was always smiling at him and wanting to discuss all his favourite things, from tips on caramelizing, to kneading techniques, to -_

_Sansa Stark: Arya is convinced that he is a liar and has a secret gf?? That’s bs right_

_Sansa Stark: I figured she’s an idiot but just in case, pls confirm_

_Hot Pie squinted at his phone screen in confusion. Arya thought that Gendry had a girlfriend? Gendry kind of seemed like he thought he had a girlfriend, too, and that his girlfriend was Arya, even though he was too chicken shit to ever actually ask her or talk to her about anything. That wouldn’t really make him a liar, though, technically._

_Hot Pie: Gendry loves Arya_

_Hopefully that would clear that up for Sansa. Sometimes he didn’t know what the hell Gendry was thinking, but at least on this fact, he was confident._

_Sansa Stark: Okay we need to get this resolved, they cannot be left to take care of things on their own_

_Well. On that front, he could not agree more. They_ **_needed_ ** _him. Just like he always figured they might. And he would not let them down! Their happiness depended on him!_

_Hot Pie: what are my orders, boss_

_He felt confident that him and Sansa, at least, were an unstoppable team of rational human beings. Once they put their plan into effect, nothing was going to stand in the way - for real, this time._

_He hoped he wasn’t wrong again. He really shouldn’t put it past them to mess even this up. They had burned him before. Once bitten, twice shy, as they say. It looked like his flan would have to wait, after all._

_But... once the plan was executed, and they were gazing into each other’s eyes, it really all seemed worth it. He was prepared to stick around (he had already been witness to so much of this drama, was Sansa really trying to deprive him of the ending?), but it seemed like he was outnumbered. Everyone else in this show clearly wanted him outta there._

_The last time they had been huddled close in the kitchen flashed through his mind. Actually, maybe everyone else had the right idea, on this one. He had already seen their ‘love’ right in front of him (more than once, actually), and it wasn’t something he needed to live through again._

_Best give them their privacy, so they could -_

_His eyes widened. They would leave his kitchen right quick, if they knew what was good for them._

His eyes scanned said kitchen suspiciously. He had forgotten, for one brief, glorious moment, about these particular encounters.

No, he certainly wouldn’t miss _that_ part of living with them.

_Hot Pie entered the house as quietly as possible. He was nothing if not a good roommate, and it had gotten pretty late. He didn’t want to disturb Arya and Gendry. He hadn’t planned on coming back tonight, but one of Maggie’s friends was having a ‘crisis’. Hot Pie didn’t mind a good crisis; after all, he was known to be very helpful in situations like this. He was kicked out anyway - sigh. Sometimes it was difficult to be a man._

_He crept past the living room, and noted that the tv was on at a low volume - maybe they were awake, after all, and watching something. Then he wouldn’t have to try so hard to sneak around. It didn't come very natural to him._

_He could see Gendry sitting on the couch - he looked like he was napping. His head was tilted back, and his mouth was open - of course he would sleep with his mouth open. He totally seemed like he would be a mouth-breather. This did not surprise Hot Pie one bit._

_It_ **_did_ ** _surprise Hot Pie, however, when the supposedly sleeping Gendry let out a breathless “Fuck, Arya -”_

_Everything in Hot Pie’s life came to a screeching halt, as the reality of what was happening hit him, and he is pretty sure he shrieked -_

_And then Gendry was yelling, and Arya’s head popped up from where she’d -_

_Hot Pie shrieked again, for good measure, and clamped his hands over his eyes. He did not need to be subjected to this._

_“I thought we agreed! We said! Stay out of the common areas -”_

_He was disappointed in how hysterical his voice sounded. He always figured he would stay more calm in dire, traumatic situations. He supposed he couldn’t be blamed, really. How many times were they going to do this to him?_

_“You said stay out of the kitchen!”_

_Gods, why, why did they have to be so obtuse? He really had to spell out every little thing for them. He thought it went without_ **_saying_** _, did they have no concept of anything?_

_He knew the answer to this. Of course they didn’t._

_Hot Pie frantically tried to make his way to his room, hands still firmly secured over his scalded eyeballs._

_It was official. He would never sit on that couch again._

There not being any chances of this happening for another few months was definitely a perk. In fact, he was going to go ahead and bump that up to Perk #1. Recently, though, things _had_ been better on that front. He had had to sit them down, rather stern, and outline his boundaries (Gods know they have no common sense), and since then… He was starting to feel a little better.

Just in time for Arya to move out, as soon as they had gotten into a groove. Of course.

Hot Pie set down the last box, and re-entered the living room. It looked like their game (or whatever that was) was over, as they were both flopped on the tainted couch.

“I can’t wait for you to come visit, though!” Aw. It was nice, really, that they were discussing their future. Alice appeared to be fascinated; she was watching them as if they really were on a television show. 

“Right. Yes. I can’t wait to meet your thousand brothers, and explain that we are dating, and living together, your first year away from home. Really. I’m sure they’ll have no objections.”

Arya rolled her eyes at this.

“Please. Don’t worry about them. I can keep them in line. My mother, on the other hand…”

Gendry’s face paled, and Hot Pie couldn’t help but snigger. He should probably let Gendry know, sometime before his trip, that it really wouldn’t be wise to… _try_ anything during his visit up North. Not with her whole family all around.

If he wasn’t warned, Hot Pie was certain that Gendry would do just that. And then he might not ever make it home alive. It looked like they still needed him, after all. He wasn’t surprised.

“When do you think he’ll be here?” Gendry asked. He sounded rather dejected already.

Arya appraised him, like -

Oh no. Like he was a creamy seafood linguine. This was not a good sign.

“Half an hour, give or take?” Oh Gods, she was getting awfully close to him -

“I can make that work.”

Hot Pie knew where this was headed, and -

“Gods, not in front of my sister, please!”

He didn’t need Alice getting any ideas, that this was what college life was like, or that this was an appropriate way to behave in front of someone they had just met -

And of course the two of them would think it was a good idea to go for one last round mere minutes before her father showed up to drive her home. Did neither of them realize this would impact the first impression?

Because Gendry was anything but subtle. He was bound to act suspicious and get himself in trouble.

Hot Pie just shook his head to himself as they scampered off to Gendry’s room. There was only so much he could do. He’d pray to the seven for Gendry’s survival.

He was gonna need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to go on record saying I don't even know what a flan is 
> 
> More importantly, I hope this brought a satisfying conclusion to what has been a grand adventure for me :)  
> This was my first venture into anything GOT and the first writing I have done in ~10 years... and definitely the first thing remotely sexy, and I was terrified and nervous the whole way through just like I am now!!!  
> If you took the time to read this just know I really appreciate it and I hope it made you smile :)


End file.
